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J. W, ANDERSON, 



From the Plains 
to the Pulpit 



By J. W. Anderson 




1907 

State Printing Company 

houston, texas 



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Copyright 1907 

BY 

J. W. Anderson 









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Preface 



I send this little volume forth on the ocean of time, 
trusting it will encourage others amid their sorrows to 
iook up to Him who hears the prayer of the poor, who 
guides those who trust Him, who shields those who 
walk humbly and uprightly before Him while the storm 
eagle may scream overhead and the dynamite of hell may 
explode near your feet, still "Have faith in God." 
Praying that the reading of its pages will prove a 
blessing to you, and thanking all who have aided me, I 
am Yours in the Master's service, 

J. W. Anderson. 

Addicks, Texas, August, 1907. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Page 
Preface 5 

CHAPTER I. 

Parents and Childhood — Boyhood Home — Moving to Texas. 
Introduction to Texas Stock — Reminiscences of the War. 
On the Range — A Death Without Salvation 9-19 

CHAPTER II. 

A Hunters' Paradise Around My Home in Boyhood — Deer 

and Buffaloes — Abundance of Game — A Bear Hunt 20-24 

CHAPTER III'. 

A Stockman's Paradise — Driving Cattle to Market — A Stam- 
pede — Securing Meat for the Army — A Cow Camp — Con- 
ditions of the Present Time 25-33 

CHAPTER IV. 

Boss of the Round-Up — In Camp — Tenderfeet — The Round- 

Up — Hunting Wild Cattle in the River Bottom 34-43 

CHAPTER V. 

A Texas Round-up — Reminiscences and Stories — Description 

of the Round-up 44-53 

CHAPTER VI. 

Incidents of the Round-up — Narrow Escapes and Dangers. 

Roping and Branding Cattle 54-66 

CHAPTER VII. 

Commencing Work of My Life — Early Impressions — At Bay- 
lor University — Incidents of University Life 67-74 



Table of Contents. 5 

Page 
CHAPTER VI'II. 

Hindering the Lord's Work — Miles, the Army Bridge Builder. 
Life of the Savior an Example for Preachers — Preaching 
at Bosque River Association Meeting — Courtship and 
Marriage — Refuting a Slander 75-89 

CHAPTER IX. 

Sickness and Hard Work — Move to Whitney — The Smart 
Young Man — Holding Meetings — Evils of Ballroom — Con- 
versions 90-102 

CHAPTER X. 

Success in a Financial Way and Preaching — At Prairie Valley 

Church — Other Meetings 103-107 

CHAPTER XI. 

Some Sore Trials — Move to Mertens — Four Hundred Con- 
verts in Meetings — Evangelistic Work — Charges Preferred 
and Dismissed 108-i 17 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Trip to the Abilene Country — Incidents on the Way — At 
the Ranch — Branding Cattle — Hold a Five-Days' Meeting. 
On the Round-up — A Badger Fight — Uncle Bob Ferguson. 
Prairie Dogs 1 18-130 

CHAPTER Xni. 

A Day at High Island — Surprises — A Gravej^ard of Heroes. 

Sink Holes— A Gas Well 131-13S 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Galveston Storm of September 8, 1900 — Why God Spared 
Me — Stories of Survivors — Visit to Galveston — Port Boli- 
var — Relief ..... 136-140 

CHAPTER XV. 

Back Into the Saddle on Texas Cow Ranch — Making Girths 
and Fancy Saddles — Buying Horses and Mules and Preach- 
ing — A Cattle Drive — Running a Ranch 141-155 



6 Table of Contents. 

Page 
CHAPTER XVI. 

Shipping Cattle to Market — In St. Louis — A Trip to Indian 

Territory— In New Orleans — Points of Interest 156-162 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Western Trip — From Houston to Leaky, Edwards County. 
Beautiful Scenery — The Kaolin Mines — Evangelistic Meet- 
ings — Conversions 163-172 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

What I' Owe— To My Parents— To My Mother— To Writers 
of Good Books— To My Wife— To My Children— To My 
Church — To the Idle and Unemployed — To the Blind, 
Maimed, Deformed and Crippled — To the Uneducated — 
To the Drunkards — To the Fallen Women — To My 
Critics — To the Children — To the Sick — To the Stockmen — 
To the Lives and Many Examples of the Past — To My 
State 173-200 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Hockley, 1907 — My Boyhood Home — Natives Who Have Won 

Distinction and Renown — Only One Minister 201-203 

CHAPTER XX. 

Why I am a Baptist — Baptism Is Immersion — Jesus Baptized 
in River Jordan — The Bible Mode of Baptism — Sprinkling 
Is Not Baptism 204-210 

CHAPTER XXL 
Short Sermon on Eternity 211-214 



The opposite picture shows the home of Mr. Wm. 
Habermacher near Addicks, eighteen miles west of Hous- 
'ton. Mr. Habermacher is on his noted saddle-horse, while 
his wife, children and son-in-law are seated near. 

Mr. Habermacher was born near where he now lives, and 
stated to me in 1896 he had never heard but five or six 
sermons in his life until he came to one of my meetings, 
in which his aged mother was converted and united with, 
my church. 

He has lived an upright life and enjoys the confidence of 
all who know him. This is one of those Texas homes that it 
does one good to visit. His daughter, Miss Katie, has 
proved herself a Christian lady of real worth to her com- 
munity. She felt she must do something for the benefit 
of her neighbors. Without the aid of any minister, after 
attending a few of the services where I was pastor, she 
went to work raising funds to build a church, so they could 
have preaching near her home. The nice church which 
now stands just south of the depot shows her faith in her 
Savior, and as long as the Katy Flyer continues to pass, 
as long as the people continue to meet to worship Him 
who hears the prayer of the faithful, her name will live. 
While she may never have State or National fame, she 
never will be forgotten by those who now or in the future 



8 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

may live near Addicks. The church stands as her monu- 
ment. It is our earnest desire that one so young who will 
do such a work as she has done, will live to perform many 
more noble deeds in life, and our wish is that many more 
young ladies will follow her example and lead in some good 
work for the good of mankind in their own community. 

She is an expert with a horse, but she does not believe 
that ladies should ride like men, but ride saddles like the 
good women of yore. 



CHAPTER I. 

PARENTS AND CHILDHOOD. 

I was born in Ouachita County, Arkansas, about ten 
miles west of Camden, October 14, 1855. Camden at 
that time was the trading center of all Southern Arkan- 
sas, because many boats came up the Ouachita from New 
Orleans. My father at that time was running a large 
farm, and also owned and was running a large saddle 
shop, of which he was the boss workman and salesman, 
but had in his employment a number of good workmen. 

My father, S. R. Anderson, was born in Virginia, 
about sixty miles from Richmond, but I don't remember 
ever hearing him say in what direction. His father, or 
grandfather, came from Scotland, and there were seven 
brothers in this crowd that sailed from Plymouth, Eng- 
land. My mother was Miss Mary P. Puryear, born 
and educated at Athens, Georgia. 

We moved to Harris County, Texas, in 1861, and 
settled three and a half miles north of Hockley, when 
that large Houston prairie had no houses on it, only 
around the edge of the timber with one or two excep- 
tions. We moved in an ox wagon. Mother had a strong 
buggy in which she rode. 



io From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

My introduction to Texas stock occurred before I 
reached the large prairies. One evening while riding 
until I was tired, I decided to walk, and soon saw a 
brave two-year-old steer near the road. I decided to 
run this little steer which, after a few steps, decided he 
would not be run by such a chap as I was, and soon I 
was running, but he overtook me and hooked me down, 
and a few minutes later, when brother beat him off of 
me, my clothes were almost all torn off, and what was 
left on me were covered with blood. I was nearly 
killed. When I came to my mother was bathing me, 
while the tears of joy and thankfulness were rolling 
down her cheeks, glad I was not killed. The wounds 
and bruises were soon well, but I rode in the buggy for 
several days without walking. I never will forget this 
introduction to Texas stock. Not very long after we 
reached our Texas home. Some gentleman drove up a 
large herd of horses; among them were some of my 
father's. My father showed me a pretty paint colt that 
he told me was mine as a gift from him. Oh! I was 
so rich. I ran across the pen to catch this colt with my 
hands, but I caused the wild horses to almost break 
their necks, and the colt was the wildest of all. At 
this juncture my father shouted, "Come back; you will 
get killed." I was almost run over in this change 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. it 

around and thought of the yearling affair, and decided 
that a colt so wild was good to look at, but not worth 
anything as a pet. I soon learned to throw the rope 
on the gentle calves and to ride yearlings. My father 
still owned several negroes, though he had sold most of 
them for land and stock. My father was a Methodist 
class-leader and licensed exhorter, and his house was the 
home for any preacher when one should happen to come 
into the neighborhood, but during the war, from 1861 
to 1865, we had preaching only once and awhile — ser- 
mons was few and far between. We lived on the public 
road and often the soldiers on their way to the "front" 
or march would often pass. I never knew a soldier 
turned away when in need of food or raiment and many 
a foot-sore soldier rested for days and would tell of the 
hard fought battles beyond the Mississippi. During the 
war most of my time was spent in herding sheep, with 
a colored boy as a companion, whom I thought just as 
much of as if he had been white, yet he was our slave, 
as negroes were then called. When the war was over 
and the negroes set free, our faithful cook, who now was 
over forty years old and had been our house servant all 
her life, took her leave with her six children, and all the 
others left. Our place was so lonely I could hardly live 
for a few days. Now my dear mother, who had been 



12 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

raised in the lap of wealth and never had done cook- 
ing, washing and the like, decided to do her own 
work, and this home was soon happy again, though two 
sons, my brothers, Edward B. Anderson and Thos. An- 
derson, had fallen at their posts. I can never forget the 
day when my parents received a letter from a comrade 
in the army stating that brother Tom was killed. The 
writer said he died while making a third charge on the 
enemies' breastworks. A ball took off the top of his 
head and he never knew what struck him. He was 
killed in the battle at Chickamauga, Ga. Father had re- 
ceived a letter from him a few days before stating he 
had been fighting fifty-four days and he never expected 
to live through the war, but by the grace of God he 
would meet him in heaven. The reading of this last 
letter from him gave my parents great joy and sorrow 
combined, but when the letter containing the news 
of his death was read it seemed like the heavens were 
brass and no comfort came to dear mother's heart for 
days. Father called us all into the house and he read 
that part of the letter about his death and said, "We 
will all now bow in prayer, ask God to help us bear 
the great loss of our dear boy." My other brother was 
wounded in the same battle and taken prisoner with 
others and died in Fort Delaware prison with the small- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 13 

pox. I had another brother who was stationed at Gal- 
veston during the war, who is today in fine health in his 
64th year, while all my sisters and brothers are dead but 
him. I was the youngest of the family, the eleventh 
child. 

At the close of the war and the negroes gone, my 
duties, sorrows and joys increased. I was soon placed 
under Mr. Wm. Walker to go on long drives on the 
range. I was green in the business, but my boss 
was as kind and true to me as one could be and 
an old hand at catching mustangs, and I knew T 
must obey orders and learn this business. I was soon 
up in all branches of the round-up and I let no one beat 
me running down a herd of wild horses or throwing the 
lasso. I was also under Mr. Wm. Perry on some of 
these drives; this exercise commenced in 1865, when I 
was only ten years old. As I was a small boy to ride 
on the range, other boys and some men would tease me 
and make out that they would hurt me, apparently just 
for fun, but all that I had to do was to ask Mr. Wm. 
Walker, who has long since passed away, to protect 
me or make them let me alone ; why, one word 
from this brave man was enough at any time. I love 
his memory today for his kindness and faithfulness to 
me, so far away from home among such wicked men. 



14 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

Why, some of these men would take out their sixshooters 
and tell me I had to cuss; they knew my father was a 
praying man, a Christian. I never did cuss or drink to 
please them. I had no desire to cuss or drink and when 
these men would try me this way, it is true I was often 
afraid to incur their ill-will, and when this fun to them 
was enough they would brag on me as the "little 
preacher." They would not have hurt me seriously or 
really harmed me, but this I did not then know; this 
would happen when we were in camp resting, but in the 
pen or running on the prairie nothing but true kindness 
ever came to me and I soon learned that they would 
stand to their crowd and each one on the round-up must 
be protected. This noble-hearted Mr. Walker took the 
consumption, lingered on for two years and died. 
When I first began to ride the prairie under him, I think 
he could out-cuss any man in the drive or in the coun- 
try, and I often trembled when standing by him or rid- 
ing with him when he would cuss at such an awful rate, 
for fear God would send lightning and kill him, also 
kill me. (I will state here that his brother John was 
killed while cussing God Almighty one Sunday morning 
for letting the bees swarm on Sunday.) He would talk 
to me sometimes about religion and say, "If God was a 
just God, why did he let the Yankees whip the South 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 15 

and free our negroes and take our wealth." He had 
great respect for my father and would sometimes say. "If 
I could feel as he does that my Redeemer lives; I 
have a home beyond this vale of tears where God and 
angels dwell and all is love, I would give all the world, 
if I owned it, for such a hope." Then again he would 
say there was no such thing as religion; as the disease 
increased on him he began to pray, but oh! wait — 
pause here, kind reader — he felt that only a few more 
days and hours on earth were his and he then sent for all 
the men in the country around who would pray to come 
and pray for him. I went to see him die and hear them 
talk to him and pray for him and sing. When they 
would say "Amen" and start to rise from their knees, he 
would say "Don't stop praying; maybe God will hear and 
answer your prayers and save my soul, for if T die like 
I am, hell is my home for all eternity." He then related 
his experience. He said that on the battlefield, when 
the bullets were flying thick and fast around him, he 
promised the Lord if he would spare him to return home 
he would go to church and serve him faithfully the rest 
of his life. He returned from the war without a 
scratch, went to church, but when he reached the church 
he did not like the preaching, so he arose and left the 
church and returned cursing and swearing- and never 



1 6 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

again did lie feel any interest in religion. "I know I 
must die; I have tried to pray for months, but I could 
not pray. Oh! I must not die; I won't die; I can see 
hell now and hear the shrieks of the damned. Oh! 
pray for me." Consternation was written on the faces of 
all in the house. The scene was one I could no longer 
bear, so I left the house and ran home, almost a mile 
away, and told father, who was sick, the statements of 
Mr. Walker. Father replied it was too late for him. be- 
cause he had been praying or trying to for weeks, but 
God would not listen. He died soon after I left, saying : 
"I am lost; I have sinned away my day of grace, the 
day I left the church because I did not like the sermon 
that day." Here before my eyes was fulfilled that 
statement in Prov. i : 26, "I also will laugh at your 
calamity, and mock when your fear cometh." I went to 
the burying next day. I stood there and wept and 
thought of what this dear friend said in his dying hours. 
The hair would almost arise on my head when he would 
talk of the woe that awaited him. I thought of him 
and nothing else for days and would lay awake at night 
for hours thinking of him and praying. I decided that 
the Bible was true, as the preacher said, and the Bible I 
never did doubt. I thought the preacher never preached 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 17 

like he believed its truths and was not as earnest as he 
ought to be in his work in pressing home the truths of 
the Bible as he ought to be. I would have prayed any- 
where then, though I was a boy of only thirteen years 
and did not have sense enough to think, I suppose, 
thought the preacher and the older Christians. My 
father prayed night and morning, though, not always with 
the family. When a little boy, my dear mother would 
take me into a little room and kneel down and put her 
feeble, bony hand on my head and beg God to bless her 
baby boy and make him a true and useful man in the 
age in which he lived. Those prayers and dear mother's 
face covered with tears, with the blessings of God, have 
made me what I am under God today, and when I at 
last entered the ministry I felt I could never die satisfied 
unless through my labors of love hundreds were lead to 
embrace a hope in a precious Savior. I can rejoice to- 
day that God has set this seal on my work and I feel 
that it is not nearly finished. 

I am requested to write my experience on the plains 
and prairies for two reasons : first, because those days and 
the scenes can never take place again, because cattle are 
now in pastures; second, thousands have not had an op- 



18 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

portunity to view the stirring scenes of an "early day 
Texas cattle round-up," when cattle were as wild as deer 
and cowboys in demand. My father's stock was mostly 
horses, which were managed nearly like cattle, yet I was 
on many drives when we were only after cattle. In those 
early days hands were paid from twenty-five to sixty 
dollars per month. 

I never did drive up the trail to Kansas City, as some 
of my personal friends did, and hundreds of others who 
I never knew, but talking with ladies and gentlemen in 
other States, and many in Texas who never saw wild 
cattle handled on the prairies, I came to the conlcusion 
that Locke was right, or almost so, when he said, "A 
person cannot have an idea without experience." Many 
talk about it as though it was all sport with no dangers 
or hardships attached to it, but what a sad mistake, when 
into this business the inexperienced jump and think "they 
know it all." I have seen green hands quit at the close 
of the third day, and they would say, "If this is the way 
T am to make my living I will not need any after Sun- 
da)', because I would be dead by that day," but they had 
come for fun and not business, like some "ball goers" 
joining the church — religion was popular when they start- 
ed, but they found it would take firmness, grit and grace 
to continue in the Christian warfare. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 19 

While we bid adieu to those stirring days of the big 
round : iips with reluctance, pausing long enough to drop 
a tear in memory of the chums who have gone to the 
great round-up of God on high, let us raise our eyes 
from a Texas cow and the past and see what we can do 
for our loved ones around us and the world at large. 



CHAPTER II. 
a hunter's paradise around my home in boyhood. 

I have of late years had many men to ask me 
if there was any good hunting grounds that could be 
easily reached, so great is the desire to find where 
they could have some real sport. These questions have 
often caused me to think of the great abundance of 
game that could be so easily found near my father's 
home when I was a boy. Often we could stand in the 
door and count twenty and thirty deer, and with a little 
caution one could slip out any time and kill all the good 
venison that the family could use. I would often find 
little fawns and catch and take them home. They are 
easy to raise, but while they were nice pets they soon 
grew to be very mischievous. Then mother would com- 
plain about the pets eating up the garden and the flowers, 
and these nice pets must be either sold or killed. I have 
seen one man start out from home about sunrise and 
return about 2 p. m. with as many deer as could be piled 
up in a stout two-horse hack, and of the venison that 
could not be used by the family or in hotels, the hind 
quarters were sent by express to Houston, where they 
would bring a good price. Some men delighted to chase 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 21 

the deer with a pack of hounds for the great sport of 
following the dogs, just the same as the rich of Eng- 
land chase the fox with their fine pack of blooded 
hounds. On one occasion a large buck which was 
slightly wounded ran through a field near where a lot 
of negroes were plowing and stopped in a fence corner 
to fight the dogs. Neither of the negroes had a gun, 
but they all wanted the deer, but how to get him was 
the great question. In the crowd was an African who 
said, "I will jump on him." The others tried to persuade 
him from the rash act, but to no avail, so Mr. African 
got on the fence and jumped on the buck, but no sooner 
was he on than the deer, with one leap, threw him 
and jumped onto him, but soon took his same stand 
in the corner of the fence; again the African jumped 
onto him, to be treated as before or a little worse, and 
this exercise continued until about the fourth time the 
African jumped on the deer, when enough dogs caught 
the deer in such a way that it was soon killed, but the 
African was not able to plow for several days, and he 
surely needed some clothing, because what he had on 
when he undertook to kill the deer was torn off ere the 
fun was over. 

There was no law then against killing any game and 
one would kill a deer when he desired one. Turkeys 



22 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

were in abundance, also, the entire year, but were not 
hunted or killed much, only in the fall, winter and early 
spring. 

Prairie chickens abounded everywhere; a thousand in 
a flock at times could be seen. In the fall of the year 
they would flock into the fields and if a man had a pea 
patch the prairie chickens would soon gather them for 
him if he did not watch very closely. In the early 
spring the chickens began to crow; it would seem as if 
the face of earth on the prairies were covered with 
them and anyone who could use a gun could drive out 
in a buggy and very soon kill all he wanted, or shoot 
until he was tired out with the sport. I have killed as 
many as seven at one shot of these pretty fowls. 

Quails were also in abundance, but they were 
hunted but little, because there was so much larger game, 
but quite a number were trapped by the boys in winter; 
now the quails are hunted in such a way by the 
sporting fraternity that it looks like they will be in a 
few years like the deer, turkey and prairie chickens — very 
few and far between, while the law is such that our 
boys dare not set traps for them. 

In September the cranes, wild geese, brantes and 
ducks would leave their summer homes, the great lakes 
of the North, and come by thousands to the coasc re- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 23 

gions to spend the late fall and winter. These would fur- 
nish plenty of sport and good hunting for all who desired 
to handle the gun, and thousands were killed for home, 
while thousands were killed by the market hunter. It 
is true that many still come South each fall, but nothing 
like the tens of thousands which would come annually 
back in 1870 to 1885. One great reason for the short- 
age is that the rich gun clubs of the Northern cities 
hire men and boys to go to the great, lakes, where they 
raise their young, catch the young birds and cut off a 
little of their wing so they can not fly South in winter, 
so the Northern hunter can have more to shoot near 
home. 

What I have said about the abundance of game near 
my own home in boyhood was nearly the same over all 
the coast region of Texas and the greater part of the 
State, but it is quite different today. 

I never was on a bear hunt in my life, yet quite a 
number were killed near father's home, and I have seen 
quite a number of their tracks near our home. A 
little girl that went to the same school that I did went 
out one day to pick blackberries and did not return when 
her parents thought she ought to ; they went in search of 
her, and soon found her dead body, partly consumed by 
a large bear that was still near the remains. 



24 From the Plains io the Pulpit. 

A gentleman who settled near where the town of An- 
derson in Grimes County is in 1854 told me about a 
bear hunt he and his friends had. They planned the 
hunt so that one-half of the crowd was to strike the 
Brazos near old Washington and go down the river on 
the east side, while the other crowd was to start up the 
river from near where Hempstead now stands, the 
two starting points about twenty miles apart; each 
crowd had plenty of dogs and were to hunt toward each 
other. The two parties met near where Courtney now 
stands; about twenty bears were killed during the day; 
some of their fine dogs were killed by the bears, and 
when the two crowds met, they had driven the wild 
turkeys before them and the trees around them were 
full of turkeys, and they killed enough in a few min- 
utes to feed all of their dogs. 

I would not have written this chapter about the game 
around my home in boyhood had it not been for the 
fact that it may be of benefit to others in days to come, 
who may roam over or dwell in this section, and know- 
ing that thousands of men would gladly make sacrifices 
if they could but spend one short month each year in 
such a hunter's paradise in which I grew up. 






TEXAS GOLD MINE. 



CHAPTER III. 
a stockman's paradise. 

In the last chapter I told you of the hunter's para- 
dise; it was also a stockman's paradise. 

My father's home was on the north side of the Hous- 
ton prairie. The main open prairie was about forty- 
five miles long by thirty miles wide, and this great open 
country was covered with nutritious grasses that af- 
forded abundant pasture for thousands upon thou- 
sands of wild horses and cattle. If the man who in- 
vented the barbed wire was even born, no one thought 
then that this wide prairie would ever be fenced. So 
all our stock pens were made either with rails, planks 
or posts. The stock would get very fat in the spring 
and summer and would stay fat all winter; that is, the 
most of them. You could go out and kill a beef in the 
dead of winter that was as fine as one would want any 
time. The stock would drift south to the Brazos river 
bottom where there were thousands of acres covered 
with cane, and many would remain in the bottom until 
spring, while others would come back to the prairie 
when the norther stopped blowing or the cold moderated, 
and portions of the stock would take shelter from the 



26 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

cold on the bayous in the southeastern part of the prairie ; 
wherever they drifted there was plenty of grass. Of 
course, some cows would die each winter, but the great 
majority of deaths were from old age; disease among 
cattle and horses was unknown to the stockmen on this 
range when I was a boy. 

As the stock had fine range winter and summer, thev 
increased rapidly, and a man could start with twenty- 
five or thirty mother-cows and soon have a fine stock of 
cattle, and the same with horses. The horses raised here 
were of the best type of the Texas cow ponies, noted to- 
day around the world for endurance and hardships. 
While the steers, many then ran on the range until they 
were eight and ten years old. Cattle were cheap; the 
best steers could be bought for ten dollars and weighed 
one thousand to fourteen hundred pounds. The only 
market then for these large beeves was New Orleans, 
and there were two ways by which they could go to this 
market. One was to drive them to Shreveport, La., and 
load them on boats there, or make a deal with Allen & 
Poole, who had at that time all the boats carrying live 
stock from Galveston chartered, and they must have a 
royalty if you shipped from Galveston. Allen & Poole, 
who lived below Houston and owned, perhaps, at 
that time, more cattle than any firm in Texas, had as 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 27 

many steers for market as they needed of their own 
raising, hence they never bought any unless they were 
very cheap. Messrs. Allen & Poole were said to brand 
about 30,000 calves a year, yet I don't know that they 
did, but the face of the earth seemed literally to be cov- 
ered with catttle from Houston to the mouth of the 
Brazos river. Their cattle covered a thousand hills. 
The men who bought the large beeves on this range had 
to drive to Shrevesport, La., then ship to New Orleans 
by boats, as there were no railroads then. When ranch- 
men would deliver the steers to the buyer, who had a 
lot of good hands, and each hand or cowboy had from 
four to six horses, and no "tenderfoot" or green 
hand who wanted to be a cowboy was wanted on this 
drive to Shreveport, because the beeves was liable at 
any time to stampede, which exercise would try the 
skill and nerve of old and experienced cow men. The 
men or cowboys who drove through to Shreveport were 
to herd the beeves at night. This, of course, they would 
do by turns, a part watch the herd until midnight, while 
the others would herd until daylight, then a new set of 
cowboys would take therm but all hands would now 
have to drive the herd that day, and at night the same 
program was followed. When one follows that kind of 
work for awhile he almost wishes he had never seen a 



28 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

cow pony or a longhorned Texas steer, because he is 
worn out with plenty of work and but little sleep, and 
then one must be always careful at night around a 
herd of wild steers ; they are so easy to stampede. You 
may be sure, if the beeves are lying down all quiet and 
one of the night herders forgets himself and strikes a 
match, the whole herd is up and gone in one minute, 
and woe to the herder who is on the side to which they 
start, for he is likely to be run over and killed unless 
he moves in a hurry and prevents the steers from jam- 
ming around him. 

To describe a stampede of wild steers is beyond my 
ability, I fear, because it is different from most anything 
else. If there are a thousand in the herd and lying down, 
and a rabbit should run into the sleeping herd, and a 
steer should get frightened and give a peculiar blow as 
he jumps up, it seems as though every one in the herd 
arises as he does; as he jumps, all seems to break at the 
same time, and the earth seems to tremble under them 
as they run, and fences of the stronger kind will not 
check them. If there is timber where they run, many 
beeves will get one, and some both of their horns knocked 
off, hips knocked down, backs broken, while some will 
be killed, and sometimes great damage is done by the 
stampeded herd. A gentleman who was helping to drive 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 29 

a herd to Shreveport told us of the owner's misfortune 
when he returned. He said, in Louisiana and near 
Shreveport they penned the herd at night; a very strong 
pen that was built for the purpose of holding just such 
herds of wild steers. That night between midnight 
and daylight they made a break. The man on watch 
said he did not know what caused them to run, but 
the steers banked up against the fence like a snow drift, 
until the fence gave away under the pressure, and they 
went. They broke down a harness house that contained 
a fine buggy and a fine carriage; then up against some 
negro cabins with such force that they fell, and a family 
of negroes were killed, while a lot of steers were 
trampled to death; when day came and he had round- 
ed up his herd, and the damage they had done was 
learned, what beeves he had left would not pay off 
his hands and pay for the buggy, carriage, the dead 
negroes and other damages on the farm. The owner 
sold the beeves and paid up as far as he was able, but 
quit the business, a broken merchant. If, when the 
steers are in a pen, they start to run, they will 
pile up against a fence until the last ones will run over 
the first ones, fence and all. If the fence does not break 
and they don't get out it would be a miracle if none 
are trampled to death. I have slept near a pen of wild 



30 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

cattle time and again, but I always felt better when I 
was near a good tree to climb, if they made a run, and 
if I had to be near a herd when they made their break 
I would rather be on a good horse and on the side from 
which they run, but you can never take your choice on 
such occasions, because you don't know when they will 
run, at what moment they will get frightened, and when 
they do, all one can do is to make the best of it he can. 
If you should be near once when a large herd of Texas 
steers stampede on a dark night, you will never want to 
have it repeated, if you are not injured in any, for there 
are a number of unmarked graves in Texas which were 
made because the beeves stampeded and the riders were 
trampled to death. 

While these large beeves would sell for only ten dol- 
lars per head, you could buy all the stock cattle you 
wanted for three dollars and fifty cents a head. The 
range was so fine and cattle increased so fast that many 
owned cattle who did not want to ride the range to 
hunt them up; they were so cheap that they would 
sell all but a few, which ran near home, and those who 
wanted to increase their stock of cattle could do so with 
a little money. Then, during the war, one could look 
out and see coming own the public road a herd of steers, 
two miles in length, seemingly, and when the riders 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 31 

would come up to our well for water, and someone 
would ask: "Where are you taking your beeves?" 
"They are for the soldiers." We did not can them up 
for the soldiers of the Confederacy, but make the steers 
furnish their own transportation, as Buffalo Bill made 
the buffaloes do when the captain told him to go out 
and kill some buffaloes for the soldiers. "All right/' 
remarked Bill, "send the wagons on after me to haul in 
the meat." "I am not fool enough to order out the 
wagons until I know you have the meat." So Bill ran 
a herd of buffaloes into camp and shot them down, and 
the captain raved and raged on Bill. "Well," said Bill, 
"as you would not send the wagons to haul in the meat 
I had to make them furnish their own transportation." 
So thousands of the large steers, when I was a small 
boy. were driven by my father's to the camps of soldiers 
in other States. Such was the abundance of ^attle on 
the fine range then that after five or ten thousands fat 
steers were taken off the range so many still remained 
that you could hardly miss those taken away. 

In those early days the cow men took only a pack 
pony or little jack to carry the camp outfit along. A 
lot of bacon, bread and coffee and one blanket to the 
man. A tent was a thing never seen on the range in 
a cow camp in those days, but those were days when 



32 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

cowboys had plenty of hard work to do, but he fared 
as well always as the boss or owner of ten thousand 
heads. 

Those were happy and prosperous days of the Texas 
cow man; there was plenty of room and grass in abund- 
ance for all who wanted to go into the stock business. 

All stockmen were very friendly with each other. 
One said to me once: "Cattle were not worth stealing 
in those days." But things have changed most wonder- 
fully since then, from way back in i860 to 1880. Now, 
in 1907, this once open range is fenced on every side 
and farms and pastures abound, and all fences are made 
with barbed wire, and unless a man owns the land he 
must go out of the stock business. It is true that many 
stockmen have pastures leasel, but this land the owner 
is liable to sell at any time, and then, perhaps, the cow 
man can not lease another pasture to put his stock in, 
and hence is forced to sell his stock, and all who are in 
the business today has all the stock cattle his pasture 
will carry, and he must sell to the butchers his cattle, 
hence every year now the number will decrease on the 
range and in pastures, because the land is reaching a 
price that a man can not afford to own for common 
Texas cattle only to graze upon, and this is growing 
more and more so every year in all parts of Texas. The 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 33 

days of the pld-time cowboy is passed to never return, 
and the big cow ranches of Texas are being cut down 
from year to year, and the cow man of the future will 
keep his cattle in pastures near his house and will need 
only a few hands, a few days at a time, to assist in 
branding or preparing his cattle for market. The peo- 
ple in cities today are complaining about the high price 
of beefsteak, but if the great range is reduced thousands 
upon thousands of acres per annum, as it has done for 
the last ten years, for the next twenty or thirty years, 
we might ask the question: "Where are the cattle to 
come from to keep the big packing houses in Kansas 
City, Chicago and St. Louis running, and what prices 
will our grandchildren pay for a nice steak. Today, as 
I mingle with and converse with the settlers of this sec- 
tion and other parts of Texas with which I am familiar 
and tell them of the big ranches that were here once and 
how we ran the large herds of cattle and horses over the 
range in those days, it seems they can hardly believe it, 
yet fifty years from now there will be still greater 
changes in the country and our grandchildren will read 
of the Texas cow ranches as we today read of Stanley 
in Africa. All they will know is what they have read, 
and then such books as mine will be read with zeal, and 
they will ask themselves the question : "Are these things 
true ?" 

3-a 



CHAPTER IV. 

I AM MADE BOSS OF THE ROUND-UP. 

I rose from an underling in the drive to the boss of 
the round-up. In this chapter I will try to describe a 
little spring round-up which occurred way back in 1874. 
A gentleman who lived a few miles north of my home 
the year before had bought a lot of range horses, and 
he Avanted his sons to go out with me and gather his 
stock in the spring. So the last days of March we set 
a day to start on our spring round-up. The day ap- 
pointed, all who wanted to go were to be at my pen by 
one o'clock. By the hour set there were about six boys, 
near my age, ready to go, and soon we had our pack 
pony ready, and we started for our camping place, about 
ten miles away, which we reached about sundown. 
There was not a house south of father's, only in Hock- 
ley, until you reached the Brazos, almost thirty miles 
away. On our way out that evening the boys said : "If 
the boss was riding good horses it would be a respectful 
crowd." They made much fun of my horses, which I 
had used all winter, and many nights they had no sta- 
ble, but were well fed, and I knew they were all right 
for the next day's run. It was true, their horses had 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 35 

fared better than mine. They would tell me how they 
would run over those prairie ponies next day, and, in 
fact, the new hands had quite a lot of advice to give 
me about the next days' run, but all was pleasant. When 
we had our horses hobbled out, we soon had our coffee 
made and our meat broiled, and sat down to our supper 
of many good things to eat, our mothers and sisters 
had prepared for us. After supper was over we talked 
over our school days, for we had all been to the same 
school, and I related to them some of the incidents that 
had happened around our noted camping ground, Thomp- 
son's Island, a grove of timber in the prairie on a creek. 
Finally we retired for the night, but some of the boys 
said they could never go to sleep as long as the wolves 
kept howling so near. Some of them had read what a 
time Robinson Crusoe had with them long ago, and 
they seemed a little uneasy, but I went to sleep leaving 
some still talking. Sometime during the night some 
fuss near woke me, and rising and looking around, I 
saw one of the boys sitting by the fire. "What are you 
doing?" I asked. He replied: "I am studying astro- 
nomy; I can't sleep like you fellows on the hard ground 
on only two little blankets; and another thing, those 
wolves are all around our camp; some are near, while I 
hear others howl away off, and then they seem nearer 



36 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

next time." I told him where there was a good six- 
shooter that he could use if they came into camp, and 
turned over and went to sleep. The next morning he 
said to me : "When I get back home I can tell them I 
have been on one round-up, and will also tell them it 
will be my last one." I think he kept his word, as I 
never did hear of him being on the range again, and 
today this friend of mine is an honored citizen of the 
city of Houston. And I will here state that I have 
known quite a number who were anxious to become cow- 
boys, and when they went on one round-up of ten or 
fifteen days duration, they had all they wanted and they 
could not be hired to go again, while I have seen some 
quit and turn back the first day, and also a few who gave 
it up before dinner, but they found a cause. These 
came to the ranch stating they wanted to work on the 
prairies and follow it for their living, and bragged how 
they could ride the worst horses that needed riding, etc. 
Now, we old hands knew what horses would buck in 
dead earnest, and we were glad to have those who loved 
and could ride them in the crowd. The boss told them 
plainly he did not want them unless they were good 
riders. "I can ride any horse you have," was the re- 
ply. The boss would order one of us to catch "Limber 
Jim" or "Slickheels" for him, and the new man was 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 37 

pitched off faster than he could get on, and after sev- 
eral falls ask the boss if he could not let him have a 
gentler horse for the first days. "No," said the boss, 
"I told you I did not want you unless you were a good 
rider, and now I know you are not, and I don't want 
you at any price." 

Returning now to our spring round-up; we had our 
breakfast about daylight and the horses were near by, 
and were soon saddled and ready for the day's ride, but 
about this time a very heavy fog settled over the sur- 
rounding country, so we could not see a half of a mile. 
So all we could do was to wait until the fog lifted so 
we could see the horses we wished to drive in. By nine 
o'clock the sun came out and all was lovely. The creek 
where we camped and wanted to cross was swimming, 
and we went up the creek about two miles, and here 
we tied our pack horse and all our extra horses, and 
swam the creek and rode south about eight miles, leav- 
ing a man every mile as we rode out, this forming a 
line of riders across the prairie. I told each one when 
I left him: "Don't let the horses pass east of our line, 
but turn all back west, and should any go across the 
creek don't follow them; we will get them this evening 
as we drive home." I went farthest out and was to 
swing around to the west and round in towards the 



38 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

others all the horses possible, but when I did start at 
half speed on my trained horse, which the boys made 
fun of the evening before, things was soon very lively, 
indeed. My horse pulled on the bits and went around 
several hundred, like a race horse on the track, and the 
wild horses were running as far as you could see and in 
every direction. I had kept one of the boys near enough 
to me that I could wave him what to do. The first man 
next to the creek followed the first herd that came along 
across the creek, and then five miles down the creek, but 
returned to the pack horses without any wild horses. 
That man said, when he jumped his horse into the creek, 
he swam across, but could not get out until he swam 
fifty yards down the creek, and by this delay the wild 
horses were so far ahead of him that he never could turn 
them back. 

The third man also forgot, and crossed the creek, but 
as he did not see where the horses got out of the water 
and he saw how long the first man was in the creek, so 
he rounded up a bunch of cattle that was near and ran 
them into the creek and watched them get out before he 
would ride into the raging creek. So by the time he 
crossed the horses were so far away he could never head 
them, and after running them for seven or eight miles, 
stopped and returned to where our pack horse was tied. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 39 

The three other boys had run off after horses that went 
east of the line, and were not in sight either, as I turned 
several hundred down the creek, where I looked, to see 
all the boys closing in around them, so we unitedly would 
bring them to a halt, but, to my surprise, not one could 
be seen, so I waved to the one I had kept near me to 
go around on the other side of all the horses we had 
running down the creek at full speed, and soon he and 
I had about two hundred stopped. He yelled to me 
across the herd where we had stopped: "What has be- 
come of the other boys?" "You heard me giving them 
instructions what to do; you can tell just as well as I 
can where they are,'' was my reply. Here we (two 
only) were on an almost level prairie country with just 
a little timber on the creek, and five of the crowd out o£ 
sight of the place where we were to have stopped the 
running wild horses. Our horses needed a rest, and we 
kept riding around the herd slowly so we would keep on 
opposite sides from each other. The horses were quiet 
and I thought I could keep them together. I requested 
the one with me to gallop back five or six miles and see 
if he could see any of the boys. I wondered to myseli 
where they could be; could they be drowned in some 
sloughs or the creek? I became uneasy about them. 
At last the one I had sent to see if he could find them 



40 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

returned and said he could not see them. "We will re- 
main and see what will happen in the next two hours," 
I said. So after waiting about an hour longer they be- 
gan to come in, but only one of the boys brought a bunch 
with him. We soon crossed the creek to where our ex- 
tra horses were and, it being after one o'clock, we all 
felt like "eating something up," as the cowboys expresses 
it. It did not take us long to eat our dinner and change 
to fresh horses, but during this time each of the run- 
away boys had related all his hardships and mishaps of 
the morning. The first man to cross had run a bunch 
five miles, while the distance between him and the horses 
increased all the time, said that it was a bunch of race 
horses that had got out on the prairie which he went 
after, while the others made similar statements. They 
said I never told them not to cross the creek, but I 
proved by the others that those was my orders, but, as I 
listened to them tell of their trials, I never laughed more 
in one day in my life than I did that evening. As soon 
as we had our saddles on fresh horses I gave orders to 
move the herd slowly and for one or two to run, as oc- 
casion demanded, and aid me in turning the horses. I 
would be after into the herd we now had. I could only 
get about three of the new hands to leave the herd that 
evening to run around and put a bunch into the herd, 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 41 

that we could see two or three miles away; so it made, 
that evening, work very hard on my horses, but I had a 
lot of fresh saddle horses in the morning's drive, so when 
one became tired, I would ride into the herd and rope 
another, and I changed onto about five good horses. 
We reached my pen near sundown with about seven 
hundred head of horses, which ended in a good little 
round-up, if the boys did play "smash" in the morning. 
Hunting wild cattle in the river bottom : Some cattle 
would go to the timber on the river in the winter and 
remain there and get very wild. We could not drive 
them or, at least, we often failed, and among them were 
beeves with horns over four feet wide, while the steers 
would weigh over a thousand pounds. All just as wild 
as deer, they would come out into the glades and some- 
times on the edge of the main prairie at certain times of 
the day, and we must learn when was the best time to 
catch them in these favored spots. A time was set to 
make a raid on them, with each man on his best horse, 
equipped with a good saddle and strong rope. We 
would slip between them and the heavy timber, and, 
when rear them, we would raise a yell and whoop and 
in a breast would make for them, and sometimes we 
could frighten them so we could run them out on the 
prairie and keep them running until they were some- 



42 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

what easy to control, but this was not always the case 
by no means, for when they would hear us, instead of 
fleeing from us and running for the prairie, they would 
make right for the bottom and run through the crowd. 
In this case each man was ordered to down with his rope 
and tie onto any they wanted. Then look out; if you 
roped one of those large beeves you must know your 
business or you would get hurt. You were liable to be 
jerked against a tree, or your horse jerked down on 
you, or as soon as the steers realized they were roped they 
would raise those large horns and make for you. They 
might hook you off your horse, or rip your horse open 
under you with those long keen horns, or jerk your 
saddle off. I have had my horse jerked down, also my 
horse disabled under me, and once, in this business, was 
jerked off with the rope, and the cow fighting tied to 
my horse, and I was off out of her reach, because my 
horse would hold her, but I dared not go to my horse, 
because she could run up and hook me if she could not 
run away; so I had to wait my time, and when m her 
serging, she was jerked down and my trained horse pull- 
ing her hard, I ran and mounted again. It was a very 
common thing to have someone laid up a few days when 
we made such a raid, or some horse killed or crippled. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 43 

Yet cow driving is only play, say some people. Well, 
you can tell them, they are talking about a business they 
know nothing about. It is true that cow driving is a tame 
affair now, indeed, to what it was way back in the early 
70's, because the major portion of stock today are kept 
in pastures and never get so wild. 



CHAPTER V. 



A TEXAS ROUND-UP. 



So often have I tried to relate, by request of ladies 
and gentlemen in the older States, the incidents and oc- 
currences of the round-up, that I will here try to describe 
one or more, as best I can, as it was when I was a boy 
and no wire fences, when pens were few and the lasso 
was kept busy. 

The time, say April I, 1872. A few days prior to this 
the cattle men had been getting their saddle ponies ready 
and word was sent to all our crowd, those who drive 
together, and we had set the day to drive, and the night 
before all were to meet and camp at a certain place. At 
this place little crowds of men and boys began to arrive, 
from 3 p. m., and they continued to come until dark, 
and some even later. The first night on the drive there 
was not much sleeping. After the ponies were "staked 
out," some being hobbled, and supper was over, the 
oldest men commenced to relate one incident after an- 
other of things that happened last year and years and 
years before on the round-ups. Some will tell how they 
killed a bear and her cubs, while another will tell how 
the turkeys were killed, still another how his crowd killed 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 45 

a buffalo, and things of this kind and nature until the 
"tenderfoot" or younger boys of the crowd would have 
a history of the range over which they were to drive and 
also a history of many parts of the State. The exploits 
of her noble soldiers and her great leaders — Austin, 
Houston, Crockett and a host of other noble men and 
heroic women — are talked of until the uneducated, if they 
would only listen, would soon have a history of Texas 
from the time of the bold pirate, LaFitte, to our first 
congress, which met at 1 old Washington on the Brazos, six 
miles west of Navasota. But amidst this conversation, in 
which most of the crowd have taken part as listeners 
and to ask questions, some have drawn a deck of cards, 
and some engage in playing for the treats or the mav- 
ericks, or the twenty-dollar gold pieces, and all who par- 
take in such are asked to take a hand, as this is the first 
night out on the range away from the ranches and 
homes. Some men had brought with them a bottle of 
the red man's "firewater," which was passed to all who 
would take a drink, and the majority of the crowd would 
take more or less of the beverage, but sometimes there 
was no whiskey in the crowd and there were those in 
most crowds who would not take a drink, but after the 
days of yore were reviewed and comrades who had 
passed away were mentioned and the boys were tired of 



46 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

the little games of cards, one by one retired to sleep, 
while the new man or "tenderfoot" in this business lay 
awake to hear the wolves howl and think of the girl he 
left behind or think of the dear aged mother and loved 
ones far away, perhaps in other States, who never saw 
such wild scenes as rolled out in such profusion on every 
side, and his mind even ran back to some sermon he had 
heard a preacher preach, and he became somewhat un- 
easy about his future state, and he is afraid that the 
Bible was true and infidels are wrong, and he is almost 
frightened out of his wits as a large wolf growls near 
his pallet, as a trained hand raises his pistol and sends 
a bal^ through the wolf, which arouses every one in camp. 
This occurrence has caused the horses to run and snort 
and, unless they are tied with good ropes, made secure 
to some bush or tree, are loose and gone towards home 
at the rate of forty miles an hour, while the hobbled 
horses are neighing and running in every direction. 
About this time some fellow who was so near dead as 
not to be awakened until at this stage of the excitement, 
arises, and in a half dazed way exclaims : "What is the 
matter?" when many turn and laugh at him, while some 
would say: "Why, if the world would take fire and 
burn up you would not wake up in time to get a handful 
of ashes before they would all blow away." Some will 
go out to see if their horses are still tied, while someone 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 47 

would be heard to say: "I know I will have mine's 
head if his body did run off;" meaning his horse was 
tied with a rope he could not break. Quietude is 
finally restored and soon all were asleep again. At 
dawn of day all are called, strong coffee is soon made, 
a light breakfast is eaten, the horses are saddled, the 
boss says: "Boys, we must get a move on us, because 
we have much hard work to do today." The grub and 
blankets are soon tied onto the pack horse, the start is 
delayed because some horses can't be found, but at last 
the run-aways are brought in, or they are given up, and 
we mount. In this crowd of twenty or thirty riders 
there are numbers of ponies that will see if their riders 
can ride a bucking pony or not and they just throw 
their heads between their forelegs and the way they will 
pitch will interest the rider, if no one else. You may 
see the rider's hat fly off, his knife and cards out of his 
pockets, and, if he had false teeth, they might be 
out of his mouth when this good, gentle cow pony quit 
showing off. Now, when about ten ponies at the same 
time try the skill of their riders, it will hold the atten- 
tion of the crowd just as a clown in one of P. T. Bar- 
num's shows used to do. Finally this little sport on the 
part of the good ponies, which are true to their training, 
raises their heads as if to say: "You are all right; I 



48 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

can afford to carry you by the side of the wild cattle 
today." 

Before us can be seen thousands of wild cattle, horses 
and deer. All of these begin to move with more or less 
speed, just as they conclude best. A few hands are left 
to bring the extra saddle horses, while the rest of the 
crowd are divided into two equal parts, one man to lead 
on either side, and soon each man is trying the speed of 
his horse, and a few hours later will try his bottom, and 
from two to five miles from where we started the riders, 
who have been keeping even with each other, will begin 
to close in around hundreds of wild cattle. Now, as 
we close in, the deer, which have been running first one 
way and then another, will break through the line of 
riders and they run so close to some of the boys that 
one may jerk his pistol and break the neck of a deer or 
shoot him through the heart; and, in this case, w T e will 
feast on venison that night instead of veal. The horses 
are blowing, some of them have bloody mouths, while 
others have bloody sides, caused by the spurs, because 
they were a little^ unruly. The cattle are all branded. 
These brands are certain letters and marks put on cattle 
and horses with red-hot irons. Each man takes his 
place around this restless fighting herd, while one or two 
men ride in and go to cutting out the cattle wanted. 
This is simple; when the man who is doing the cutting 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 49 

sees a cow or steer that is wanted, he runs the cow or 
steer out to one side, and in this way another herd is 
started and grows rapidly while the first decreased at 
the same time. This exercise continues until all the cat- 
tie in the first herd are "cut" into the second herd that 
belongs to the men in this particular crowd. Some- 
times, to hold this first herd, it takes all the skill of the 
experienced cowman, and there is not an easy place on 
man or his horse. Finally all the cattle wanted are cut 
into the second herd, which may number two hundred 
or five hundred head. The saddle ponies are now put 
with this herd, and if any horse has been crippled in this 
first run a fresh horse is caught, and perhaps some pony 
has been run until his strength has failed, as we call it 
"give out," his rider also must have a new horse. The 
horses are driven close together and one or more take 
down their ropes and throw them onto the pony or 
ponies wanted, and soon all are caught that is needed, 
and we have another young circus of bucking ponies 
with good riders in the saddles; for if one is thrown 
off, all hands and the cook will laugh at him, and he 
soon learns to stick just as fast as the hide on the horse 
on which he is riding. This first herd is now turned 
loose and started back the way we had come, so we 
would not be troubled with them any more that day. 

4— a 



50 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

A consultation is now held, with several hands left to 
bring on the herd, while the main crowd divides, and 
another run is made, and this time we will close in 
around another herd several miles from where we 
stopped the first one, and the same process of cutting 
out is repeated, and the cattle we do not want are turned 
back ; and now it is dinner time. We catch our pack 
horse and take off his burden, and if we can find some 
brush or anything to make a fire with, we soon have 
coffee made and our meat broiled. Some will eat while 
others will herd the cattle and ponies. Dinner being over, 
all must have fresh horses. Soon we would have an- 
other circus of bucking ponies, like Buffalo Bill has been 
running in Europe and America and charging from fifty 
cents to one dollar to see; we could watch until we were 
tired of taking part in this exercise, but as empires rise 
and fall and our feelings rise under happy surroundings 
and sink under adverse circumstances, so he who would 
be a real Texas cowboy in the 6o's and 7o's (i860 and 
1870) must take his seat on the back of one of those 
ponies which would test his ability as a rider. Now, one 
of two things must be done; we must make our way to 
some pen or herd our cattle all night. One man is now 
appointed boss of the herd with orders to drive to a 
certain pen. One run after another is made and herd 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 51 

after herd is rounded up and our cattle cut out until 
late in the evening, when all join in to rush our own 
herd to the pen, but, to our dismay, when we reach the 
pen another crowd is ahead of us, and we are compelled 
to herd our cattle all night. Sometimes we would 
choose up to see who would herd the first part of the 
night. We strike camp near, some ponies are staked 
out, while the rest are hobbled. Supper being over, we 
are soon asleep except those who are to herd the first 
part of the night, and when the time comes to change 
and another crowd takes the place of those who had 
watched the first part of the night nearly all in camp 
are woke up in trying to awaken the right ones. The 
next day the same exercises are repeated and our herd 
grows according to our success in finding our cattle, but 
the next night we get a pen and all hands can now sleep. 
After being out a week or ten days our herd had 
grown until it was large and unwieldly. Our horses 
had about quit bucking; we have had to rope and drag 
into the herd some wild cattle, while others we had to 
rope and drag into the pens at night. If you had been 
out with us ten or fifteen days, you would see the neces- 
sity of having heavy, well-rigged saddles, for which 
Texas is noted. After being out fifteen or twenty days 
we return to our homes and ranches to brand up what 



52 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

calves we had and ship some steers to market. In brand- 
ing the calves we are in danger every hour of being 
hooked or run over by some wild cow, and any man 
will get a move on himself when he sees one of these 
wild fighting cows coming full speed towards him. 

When we had no pen and wished to brand the calves, 
the cattle were rounded up in a close herd near where 
the fire was made and the men and boys would ride 
into the herd, rope and drag out the calves, when others 
stood with sharp knives and hot irons, ready to mark 
and brand them, and the ponies soon learn just what 
to do when you throw your rope on a calf; he will at 
once turn and run up to where they are branding, drag- 
ging the calf. Sometimes the cattle are so wild and 
fight so much that the calves are roped on horseback in 
the pens. 

If there were ten or fifteen men in the crowd we would 
kill a nice veal each day, one quarter of which we would 
give to the man where we had penned our cattle. These 
round-ups would vary in length of time we were out and 
the kind of territory we had to work. Sometimes the 
drives were made up of a number of men who owned 
cattle on the range, while men, who owned thousands, 
hired all the men in the crowd, and they were to gather 
only his cattle; but those days are gone to never return, 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 53 

and now cattle are in pastures or confined to small ranges 
and the longhorned Texas cow will pass away just as 
sure as the buffalo has departed. On many of the big 
ranches ; Captain King's, near Corpus Christi, and Cap- 
tain Kennedy's, the hands went out on the round-ups in 
April and never quit until December 20. 



CHAPTER VI. 

INCIDENTS OF THE ROUND-UPS. 

The narrow escapes and the dangers by which the cow- 
boy is surrounded are many, and it requires that he 
ever keeps in full play watchfulness and care as well as 
decision and quick action. 

So many have painted in their minds the pleasure of 
riding fast fat ponies and the joys accompanying the 
sport (work) that when they take hold they find it like 
the lesson in one of our school readers concerning Mr. 
Toil and his several brothers. 

One hot day in June when we had made a good drive 
and had quite a herd the boss decided we would brand 
up what calves we had and turn this herd loose. 

Everything was ready and many irons were soon in 
a big fire, and about six of us boys were selected to do 
the roping, while others were to put on the brands, while 
one was to keep up a big fire, and others were to keep 
that part of the herd that the roping pen would not 
hold. The dust was thick and all the boys were soon 
hot and perspiration flowing, and the cattle commenced 
fighting us badly; the boss said: "Don't you get on 
the fence, but just jump to one side when an old cow 
runs at you, and as she runs past you knock her down 



From- the Plains to the Pulpit. 55 

with your rope." One or two men had clubs with which 
to knock down any cow that should run up where they 
were throwing the calves and branding, but one who 
must rope could not be cumbered with these clubs. It 
is true, several cows were knocked down, but when they 
would rise and run around a little they seemed to be 
worse than ever. One of the boys (about 20 years old) 
had a stiff knee and was not so active on this account, 
and when one of these enraged cows would make at him, 
instead of obeying orders and jump to one side, he would 
jump on the fence. This he did for about three times, 
when the boss reprimanded him every time for not stand- 
ing his ground. The third time, I think, he jumped on 
the fence, the boss became enraged at his actions and 
cursed and otherwise abused him and said: "Charley,, 
I am paying you to work for me, and now I want you 
to keep off that fence or you can now quit work for me 
and I will hire a hand who will do his part without 
flinching or running." Charley turned to the boss with 
tears in his eyes and said: "Mr. R., you know I am 
crippled and not as good as some of the boys, but I am 
compelled to work hard to earn a support for mother 
and little sisters. Now, Mr. R., instead of discharging 
me, please let me go yonder and herd the cattle and let 
one of the boys come in my place. If you turn me off 
I can not now get work." There was so much pathos 



56 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

in his words that the boss at once said: "Charley, I 
know you are always steady and do the best you can; 

ride out there quick and tell to come here." I 

have often thought of Charley and his stiff knee; it has 
caused me to cheer up often in life. This is a parallel 
case with young D. L. Moody when he was told by his 
pastor: "You are ignorant and unlearned and you are 
in the way in our meetings." Whereupon Moody said: 
"I must talk and tell someone of Jesus," and again when 
he (Moody) asked the privilege to teach a class in the 
Chicago Sunday school, "You can teach a class if you 
will bring the children in here." This he did by hunt- 
ing up children and getting them to come, and his class 
increased until his part of the house would not hold 
them, and he had to go and rent a house for his class. 
The reading world knows the rest concerning this man 
who must work. 

One night when we were in camp at Roberts' ranch, 
in Harris County, we killed a nice calf and hung up that 
which we did not then use, and while all were sound 
asleep the wolves came and secured the major portion 
of that we had hung up. Next morning a consultation 
was held as to how the meat was taken, and soon reached 
the conclusion that dogs or wolves had taken it. "If 
dogs, they won't come back again, but if wolves, they 
will come again tonight," said one; but this matter was 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 57 

soon forgotten when the more important duties of the 
day confronted us. But when we returned at night, 
wearied with the labors of the day, and we were staking 
out our horses or hobbling them, the cry of "wolf" was 
raised in camp, and someone said: "Kill him, kill him, 
help !" All eyes were turned to those who had shouted, 
"Wolf, kill him," and soon a very large wolf was dead 
and his scalp off. 

Mr. John Mooney, who is still living and in fine health 
now, was leading his horse to grass ; he looked up the 
trail and saw a large wolf coming; not having a pistol 
or club, he did not know what to do, for he knew if the 
wolf saw him he would run. Looking about him, he 
saw a large myrtle root which he quickly grabbed and 
took his stand by the trail to see if Mr. Wolf would 
come near enough for him to knock him down, and, sure 
enough, the wolf was soon rolling over the embankment 
of the gulley near, and before the wolf could recover 
from' the blow one of the crowd had him by the tail 
while others ran up to assist, and in the scuffle one hap- 
pened to run up with a bone and knocked him in the 
head. Someone said the wolf was sick or we never 
would have had this opportunity of killing him in this 
way, but a larger or a healthier wolf I never saw, but, 
pressed by hunger, he was scenting the fresh beef and 



58 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

was coming with his nose to the ground and not looking 
for such treatment. 

Another day, when we had made a round-up near 
Cane Island, twenty-eight miles from Houston on the 
Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railway, one of the boys, 
Robert Day, roped a large deer. The deer would run 
to the end of the rope and be jerked down; he would 
rise and make straight for Day and jump over the horse, 
either in front or just behind the rider, and in this way 
Day was soon wound up in the rope, and he commenced 
to yell for help. A number of us ran to his assistance, 
but as Day, the deer and the horse was so excited, we 
could hardly do anything for laughing. When Day saw 
us all laughing he cried out : 'Tor God's sake, help me 
to get loose or let this deer loose!" Our ropes were 
soon in the air and Mr. Deer not only had one but three 
ropes on him and tied to as many trained cow ponies; 
and he could be held off and away from either horse, 
stretched as he was. We soon ended his life and all 
feasted on venison that day instead of veal, and Day 
said he would never again throw his rope on a big buck. 

One lovely morning in May, in 1873, we were cutting 
out horses in Mr. Warren's pen, at Hockley, and from 
some cause I was laughed at by several in the crowd, 
perhaps for being a little venturesome or a little prema- 
ture in my decisions in a case in dispute, but be this as 




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From the Plains to the Pulpit. 59 

it may, my friend said in a joke : "I wish a horse 
would run over you; you are so reckless." Some of 
them, I thought were playing off. Sure enough, sev- 
eral had barely escaped being run over, but here came 
a wild horse at his highest speed and several was shout- 
ing: ''Stop him, head him, knock him down!" I tried 
to do one or both when he struck me full drive and sent 
me into the fence ten or twelve feet away with such 
force that if my head had struck a rail center I would 
have never known what struck me, but as fate, destiny 
or Providence would have it, my head went between two 
rails and my feet were thrown over the sides of this 
strong rail fence., and all who saw me thought my neck 
was broken, sure. But they all ran to release me, and 
when placed upon the ground they said: "Stand up." 
This I would not do, and while I am today writing about 
this matter it is just as fresh on memory's page as if it 
just happened yesterday, though it occurred thirty-three 
years ago. Oh ! histories of ages past and memory ; oh ! 
wonderful faculty which enable us to view and see the 
world progress and live in all ages of the world, so to 
speak, and call up all the sorrows, mistakes and blunders 
of the past in life, as well as sweet hours and the presence 
and company of dear ones who are now no more be- 
neath the sun. 



60 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

When I would open my eyes there seemed to be a 
smoke so dense I could not see fifty steps away. One 
of the hands I had hired ran up to me and said in an 
excited manner, "Mr. Anderson, do you want me to run 
after your father and mother?" This caused me to realize 
that, although I was hurt seriously, I read consternation 
and fear in the faces of my comrades. With friends on 
either side I was assisted and enabled to walk to 
the gate, and just outside other kind hands had made a 
pallet with all the blankets, while others stood ready to 
offer whiskey, which I would not drink, but I was partly 
bathed in brandy, and soon lay quiet on the pallet while 
my mind wandered on amidst lovely scenes that my ton- 
gue or pen can not describe. By three o'clock I was 
able to walk a little, and by five in the evening was able 
to ride home, and with the assistance of two hands drive 
about four hundred head of horses. I was afraid of all 
horses that day, and to see a wild horse coming toward 
me, I was ready to run. Several parties were at my 
pen, ready to get their horses I had gathered. 

About dark I reached the house, nearer dead than 
alive, but one of the hands had run down to the house 
ahead of me and told dear mother of my close call for 
life in the morning, and as I reached the gate mother, 
dear mother, with tear-stained cheeks, met me and threw 
her arms around me. "I am so thankful you are still 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 61 

alive. Oh ! dear boy, I am afraid you will yet be brought 
home to me dead. Oh ! God, bless and keep my reckless 
boy!" 

Here let me digress long enough to state that the 
earnest prayers of a mother are treasured by our Father, 
and God answers the prayers and saves the children in 
heaven, though mother may die before they are saved. 

Supper was soon ready and I drank freely of strong 
coffee, and after bathing my bruised and aching head, 
I reached my bed to remain there for several days, the 
major part of which I was semi-conscious of what trans- 
pired, but daily a loving, lovable and precious mother 
and a kind, true father took my case to a throne of mercy 
in prayer. 

While speaking of my own unworthy self and the 
exploits on the prairies, I here state that I was a reck- 
less rider and was never pitched out of the saddle by a 
wild horse or mule. I have had horses to run under 
limbs and was jerked ofT, and they would lay down and 
wallow me off, but never pitched me off, and several 
times have had large crowds of ladies and girls gath- 
ered to see me ride when I was going to ride a noted 
bad horse. On the average horse I could light a cigar 
and smoke while he was pitching, and several times a 
pony purse was made up to just get me to ride a bad 



62 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

horse to amuse the crowd, and sometimes I must ride 
without hackamore, bridle or saddle, with only a rope 
around his body, and the horse turned loose on the 
prairie. And one day, when we had penned at Mr. Wm. 
Hoppe's, as we had gathered all his horses, and having 
plenty of mustang wine, he brought down to the pen 
in buckets, and said : "Boys, drink ; I have five barrels." 
I did drink several drinks of this wine, and I, with an 
assistant, was appointed gatekeepers, and every few 
minutes I would rope a horse as they were run out and 
throw them broadside, and as they would rise, I would 
leap onto their backs and clutch them with my feet and 
lock my hands in their mane, and now we would take a 
ride without rope, bridle or saddle, but all now who read 
these lines know that I was not acting with any reason, 
that this was mere recklessness. I rode in this wav six 
or eight, ten or fifteen minutes each, then would watch 
my chance and jump off. The boys said the wine helped 
me to ride so reckless, but if anything, the wine helped 
to make me more reckless than I was otherwise, and I 
hope no boy who reads these lines will ever be such a 
reckless rider, and trust that you will never touch wine. 
It will lead to stronger drink, and when that habit is 
formed it is like taking out the eyeteeth to quit the aw- 
ful thing. 

One day, in 1874, when a number of us were cow 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 63 

hunting near the Live Oaks, a part of the crowd, after 
we divided, went up by McKinney Island, near where 
the town of Waller now stands, and near the railroad, a 
large bear was discovered. It was very hot and there 
was no water on the range, and this bear, it is supposed, 
in crossing the prairie to or from the timber on the 
Brazos scented the water in the railroad tank, and was 
there to get water. When the boys saw this bear they 
longed for a Winchester, but nothing of the kind was in 
the crowd. The horses were excited, and after running 
the bear around and around, it took shelter by crawling 
under a small vacant house which stood a few hundred 
yards north of the water tank of the railroad company, 
and with a small pistol and a large club this bear was 
killed by raising part of the floor. 

Often on these round-ups, when in bottoms or amid 
the brakes or in the mesquite ranges, men will get off 
from the crowd in a long chase after horses and will 
get lost, and though he may run the horses down, night 
comes on and he must let them go and try to find camp, 
or he may get ten or fifteen miles away, and his faithful 
pony give out, and he is bound to walk back and lead 
his horse, or leave his horse and carry his saddle, or 
just camp there until his horse rests so he can make it 
into camp. Sometimes, when one is lost off from camp 
at night, we would set the grass on fire so the missing 



64 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

one could see the way to camp, and on one occasion I 
remember that runners was sent out to find one of our 
party who we were afraid his horse had fallen on him 
and he was crippled; the orders were to fire off our pis- 
tols and yell once and awhile as we rode out in opposite 
directions, and if he was found, we were to fire twice in 
succession with only one minute between the shots. But 
often has the lone cowboy slept by himself by the side 
of his tired horse with a wet saddle blanket or the bare 
ground for his bed and his saddle for a pillow, without 
water to drink or a bite to eat until noon next day, be- 
fore he struck refreshments, unless he could kill a jack 
rabbit or a prairie chicken to satisfy his hunger; the 
cowboy is pust like the college girl in this respect, al- 
ways ready to eat unless at work or study or entertain- 
ing company, but when the poor lost or belated cowboy 
reaches camp under such circumstances he can eat in a 
way that makes one rejoice to see the joy it affords him, 
and hear him tell his lonely tale of woe and besetments 
and how the wolves kept him awake. 

Another circumstance which will go to illustrate the 
cowboy's calamites. One day I was boss of the herd 
and we were driving nearly a thousand head of cattle 
and horses from Cane Island, and wanted to reach the 
old Smokey Henderson's ranch that night, when near 
the Live Oaks it began to rain, and we began to 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 65 

untie our slickers, and there were only three of us around 
the herd at that time; two of the boys' horses jerked 
loose from them, and I ran up to head them out of the 
wild horses and keep them away from the loose horses, 
and one of these ponies stopped as though he would not 
move for a dollar, and I dismounted to catch him, where- 
upon my horse became frightened at the yellow slicker, 
and jerked me down. The other pony ran away and 
there we were, all afoot and the horses w 7 ith their saddles 
on running through the herd and causing cattle and 
horses to go in every direction, but this was no time to 
stand, but a time for immediate action. Some of the 
gentler horses which had hobbles around their necks 
were soon surrounded, but ere this our slickers had been 
laid in the grass, and the rain coming dow r n like a baby 
cyclone was near, but we soon mounted the horses with 
a hobble for a bridle and soon caught our horses which 
had the saddles on and collected our then scattered herd, 
but had to move with a double shuffle, with two miles 
covered w T ith our herd, but we finally had all in shape 
again and the boys remarked: "Well, didn't we have 
fun while it lasted?" 

Another day, when we were resting at the large tank 
near Brookshire Point, a new hand on the range let his 
horse loose, and as he could not catch him he called upon 



66 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

the crowd to help him, and as the horse was running 
away, Jim Hargraves and Ben, his twin brother, were 
the first to bring their ropes to bear upon the fleeing 
horse, and instead of catching the horse by the neck, 
they roped the saddle by the horn, and when they let 
their trained ponies know that the rope was made fast 
to the horse the ponies planted their feet to meet the 
coming jerk or surge, and as the saddle was strong they 
jerked the run-away down upon his side and wheeled 
and put spurs to their trained ponies, which just drew 
the horse back to the owner on his side. The new man 
ran to meet them, but when he reached them the major 
portion of the hair was rubbed off by the drag. The 
new man was hot, but the boys said: "Don't send us 
after your horse any more unless you want us to train 
him to stand ; we will let him know we are real cowboys 
and also have ropes which we use in case of such cranky 
horses as yours, and we can also tend to his owner if he 
don't like it." There the matter was dropped and all 
was cheerful and friendly, and the new man found it 
was to his interest to swing with the crowd and take his 
part of misfortunes without murmuring, and, reader, we 
must not be angry with everything we don't like, for 
there were things that Napoleon could not help and a 
battlefield on which the other man wore the crown of 
victory. 



CHAPTER VII. 

COMMENCING THE WORK OF MY LIFE. 

Many a time while amidst wicked and gay crowds 
have I been so miserable I could hardly live, and feel- 
ing, uniess I preached, my life would be a failure. I 
read infidel works and books written against the Bible 
and religion to ease my conscience, yet at this I made a 
failure, but the more ( I read it proved that the Bible was 
from God and its truths would stand the wreck of 
worlds and rise above the crush of all things' beneath the 
sun. Fate, surroundings and circumstances seemed to 
frown upon me from every side, and a more miserable 
mortal never lived than I was while living in open re- 
bellion to my known duties as a Christian. 

To preach I was too ignorant, besides I had so many 
faults and imperfections, but the impressions I tried to 
drive away by doing things I knew to be wrong ; though 
I was a member of the church, I was just like many I 
have seen since. I did not read my Bible with an obe- 
dient heart as I should have done. The preachers who 
preached in the vicinity did not seem to believe what 
they preached to others, and nothing but solid food 
would do any good in those days. I would read my 
Bible, weep and pray. I think my father realized my 



68 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

feelings, because several preachers talked to me about 
preaching and tried to show me the joys and even the 
honors that clung around the ministerial office, but all 
these were chaff, indeed, to me. I knew, unless God 
made the preacher, unless he had a special calling to the 
work of the ministry, he would be a failure, it would 
make no difference how much learning and knowledge 
he possessed. I read Bunyan's complete works and the 
history of the Reformation, and saw how one real earn- 
est Christian and God-called man battled down the de- 
crees of the pope, which aided me in reference to a spe- 
cial call to the work. A cold, formal ministry has al- 
ways been a hindrance to the spread of the gospel; it 
drives men away from the church and hinders other 
Christian work in the vicinity of a church in the pulpit 
of which stands a cold, formal preacher. 

I at last yielded to what I felt to be my duty, and 
while I stood among the best in our country schools, I 
sold all my stock and soon entered Baylor University, 
which was then located at Independence, in Washington 
County, and Dr. W. C. Crane, D. D., LL. D., was the 
honored president. I thought I knew a great deal when 
I entered the university, but after I had been there one 
year I decided I knew hardly nothing, in Feb- 
ruary, 1879, I preached my first sermon at Wellborn, in 
Brazos County, and the church called me that day to 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 69 

serve them as pastor, and in a short time I was called 
to other churches, which caused me to preach every 
Sunday. 

While at the university, I was called Dr. Crane's pri- 
vate secretary. I know I was selected to go to different 
parts of the State on special business and called on by 
him to attend to important business around the town. 

The young ladies of Baylor College appointed me 
chief marshal of their day each commencement, which 
I considered the highest honor that have ever been be- 
stowed upon me from a worldly standpoint, to be se- 
lected for three years in succession out of two hundred 
young men. On the 226. of February each year we had 
some kind of a celebration, also on the 21st of April we 
all had a big picnic, and again I was called on to get 
wagons and hacks to carry the young ladies of the col- 
lege to the picnic grounds, but none of us were al- 
lowed to take just one young lady of the school in a 
buggy. On one or two occasions while there, all the 
boarders were allowed to take a horseback ride, and I 
went with them to see that no one was hurt. On these 
occasions I rode a very fine horse of fine speed and good 
metal. The owner was afraid of him. I could ride him 
when it suited me, because I could handle him. I will, 
until the last hours of my life, be proud of the friend- 
ship of those young ladies. 



jo From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

I was never considered extra bright in college, but 
stood fair, and, I think, I would have been better in all 
studies if I had not had to preach every Sunday. 

I seldom had time to take any part in the plays and 
games on the campus, yet the young men of the univer- 
sity treated me well and better than they did most of the 
young preachers in the university. 

One young minister would play pranks and tricks on 
the boys, and would on holidays and times of celebrating 
slip around and ring the college or church bell, until 
everyone but himself would become disgusted. He 
was then unpopular and has never done much as a 
preacher. 

While at school there was a circumstance that hap- 
pened that caused the ladies to talk about me, and some 
talk among the boys, that I neither cared for either way. 
I had done only my duty. A dear young lady who had 
neither father nor brothers was there to obtain an edu- 
cation, and boarded not very far from our boarding- 
house. One Saturday she and the lady with whom she 
was boarding prepared to make a visit in the country. 
The carriage was ready at the gate and the young lady 
wished an article from the store; the other lady said: 

"Miss , you jump in the carriage and Tom 

(negro) will drive you to the store, and you can do 
that while I am getting ready." The young lady stepped 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 71 

into the carriage and was quickly driven to the store, 
only a quarter of a mile, but a lot of boys from our 
boardinghouse and several others from different parts 
of the town, and like a set of loafers generally are ready 
to express their opinions freely and talk knowingly, and 
one remark after another was made by this crowd of 
loafers; some of these remarks were repeated over the 
town, and some girls, somehow, heard of the remarks 
the boys made, and went and told this young Christian 
lady what the "boys said," and, no doubt, much was 
added. This is generally the case. The young lady 
went to her room that evening crushed in spirit, and 
spent the most of the night weeping, though she had 
done nothing more than a thousand good girls have done.. 
She wept so much that night she was almost sick next 
morning. The news spread over the town and some men 
talked of calling in play firearms or a club on the foul- 
mouth beings who had said "so and so," and some of 
the boys did not know what was best for them to do. 
The young lady spent Sunday in her room instead of 
going to her Sunday school class or attending church. 
When I reached home from my appointment that night 
one of the young ministers called me to one side and 
related to me the talk that had run over the town, but 

who started it no one knew, and how Miss was 

weeping over it. I said: "Why did you not go and 



72 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

see her and tell her you would take her part and would 
whip the low foul-mouthed man or anyone who had an- 
other word to say?" He said: "I did not know what 
to do or say. I was afraid I would make matters 
worse. 1 ' I said to him: "I will at once go and see her 
and have her to go with me to church tonight." I soon 
knocked on the door and being invited in, I call for Miss 

. "She does not want to see anyone." "Tell 

her I must see her and will not leave until I do." I 
had several times had the pleasure of calling on her and 
escorting her to church. She refused to come into the 
parlor at first, but I said I would not leave until she 
came. The lady with whom she boarded and her hus- 
band became my assistants just then, and Miss 

was soon in the parlor. I said to her: "I have come 
to have you go to church with me." She said: "Oh! 
Mr. Anderson, I can not." "You must, and if you are 
not ready, get ready quick." After talking with her five 
minutes more she decided to go. The tear-stained face 
was soon bathed, and when she again entered the parlor 
I thought Cleopatra never looked more charming when 
she captivated Mark Antony, and her smiles made me 
happy as I looked into that sweet face. She said, when 
near the church: "We will take a seat in the rear of 
the church." "No, we will not," said I, "when we enter 
the church house will be full, as we are late, and we will 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. J2> 

walk to the front seat." "Oh, Mr. Anderson, don't do 
that." I replied, "We will." I felt truly proud as I walked 
up the isle with that beautiful lady by my side, and I 
felt like weeping for joy as an earnest prayer rose from 
true men and pure women in that vast audience: "God 
bless Anderson; he will die in the defense of the right." I 
felt like I could conquer any man who had another word 
to say against her. As w T e returned home I don't think 
a happier lady ever walked by my side. The next day 
I secured some notes and sweet bouquets, the fragrance 
of which has had a tendency to sweeten my whole life 
and cheer me amidst gloom and sorrow. I now have 
four precious daughters, and my prayer is that they will 
ever be blessed by the Great God and shielded from 
harm, and meet men who love the pure in life and not 
only them, but the thousands of pure girls in Texas. 
While it was only a small part I played in that drama it 
was impressed deeply upon my mind; try to be a bless- 
ing to others and their joy will add to your happiness, 
and the smiles of others will fall upon you as the years 
roll on, but all acts of duty we ought to do if we brought 
condemnation of the community, or world, upon us, for 
truth and right can stand alone and by itself, though 
covered with blood and scars and may never be vindi- 
cated until the Judgment Day. Columbus did right 
when he was begging from court to court in the old 



74 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

world, though he stood alone and had the sarcasm of 
the common herd resting upon him, and Carey still 
pleaded for the dark and sin-cursed foreign lands, 
while the preachers of England were crying him down, 
but history often turns around on her pinnacles. Who 
has the courage of their convictions? When these prin- 
ciples are God-given, this standing up for the right gave 
Luther his strength to face the pope and all the kings 
of the old world; then let me stand up for the right, 
though all censure and scorn, while the storm eagle 
screams over my head and the dynamite of hell explode 
at my feet. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Rev. Z. C. Taylor, now of Bahia, Brazil, was my 
class-mate and an intimate friend and dear brother in- 
deed. One day, after I had had special honor conferred 
on me, said, "Bro. Anderson has not enough sense to 
take the big-head," and I now regard this as I did then — 
one of the highest compliments that was ever made con- 
cerning me — for a preacher with the big-head is a curse 
to the cause of Christ, and a blast on the church and age 
in which he lives. Yet he must contend for what is 
right at the risk of all earthly happiness and social stand- 
ing, and figuratively speaking, kick others who would 
hinder out of the ring until their locks grow (Num. 
6:5) and their eyes are open and they see aright (2 
Kings 6:17, and Mark 8:24). 

I have had these knocks, and often from men who 
were almost worthless as workers, for a true worker in 
the Lord's vineyard, while he may not be willing to give 
a worker his strong support, on account of some points 
of doctrine the other or others may hold, will not use his 
influence to hinder a good work that he himself can not 
do, and which he sees is adding to the enlightenment of 
the people and their comforts and preparing them for 
more solid instruction from other hands. 



j6 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

I do not want to here digress into theorizing, for the 
world is full of theory, but we have not half enougrh ac- 

ml ' O 

tual practical work. 

I would rather be like Stonewall Jackson's man, old 
Miles, the Virginia bridge builder. 

One day the Union troops had retreated and burned 
a bridge over the Shenandoah. Jackson determined to 
follow them, and commanded Miles : 

"You must put all your men on that bridge," said he. 
"They must work all night and the bridge must be com- 
pleted by daylight. My engineer shall furnish you with 
a plan and you can go right ahead." 

Early next morning Jackson met the old bridge- 
builder. 

"Well," said the General, "did the engineer give you 
the plan for the bridge?" 

"General," returned Miles slowly, "the bridge is done. 
I don't know whether the picture is or not." 

And that is the kind of men we need today — just do 
the work and let theorizing go. 

Miles set an example in this case worthy to be fol- 
lowed by every preacher, missionary and worker in the 
Lord's vineyard; and the thousands of professors who 
are idle, and many offer criticism, while they themselves 
do nothing, not even sending their own children to Sun- 
day school, or trying to organize one if they have none; 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. yy 

have no family altar, and are too indifferent to attend a 
prayer meeting; think if they go to their church once a 
month or once a year they are all right and riding to 
glory; and if they throw in a nickel or a quarter to help 
the preacher they think they are angels of mercy to the 
preacher and pillars in the church. There is not enough 
spiritual power among a thousand such to lead one soul 
to Christ, and active Christianity and religion would be 
a thing of the past unless God would raise up and send 
out men who would cause all such communities of Chris- 
tians to awake and cause them to break up their "fallow 
ground" (Jer. 4: 3); and among this class fully one- 
third or one-half of the ordained ministers of this nation 
are standing. 

I have met quite a number of this class of preachers, 
and their advice and suggestions was enough to make 
devils rejoice and angels in glory weep, if such was pos- 
sible. 

Oh, give me the hand of the man who first thinks and 
studies the Bible with a sincere desire to catch the spirit 
of the inspired truths and prays to be free from every 
selfish way, received the Word as a letter of instruction, 
as a guide, and pleads the promise, until he feels that 
the promises God has made are checks he has drawn on 
the bank of heaven. With boldness can take them and 
walk right up to the Lord's bank and ask him to pay 



78 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

them. Such a man, it makes no difference what his un- 
pleasant surrounding may be, will sooner or later be 
heard, and the vicinity in which he lives will sooner or 
later realize that that man is a Christian indeed. 

But God is much better to all his servants than Jack- 
son was to Miles. He has given us a pattern to follow 
in the life of the Savior. First, of humility in leaving 
the glory and splendor of the ivory palaces of heaven to 
prove his love for the happiness of others. Second, a 
life of labor to teach all to be industrious. Third, to 
administering to the afflicted, weeping with the bereaved, 
and facing formalism and rebuking the wicked in a way 
that caused them to be enraged. (Read Matt. 23 over 
until you can see what he means.) 

I have 1 been called a crank, it is true, but as some cranks 
are of great importance and have proved a great bless- 
ing to the mass of mankind, the progress of the world's 
history, while others have shared no honors in the drama 
of life, and were a kind of nuisance in general, and so 
I have been at a loss to know to which class in the 
minds of these men I belonged, but as their opinions were 
not precious, and never formed worlds, I never had time 
to inquire or stoop low enough, or rather, to reach up to 
these "great ones" to ask which class I belonged ; but as 
the sun was shining and the road was always wide open, 
I tried to travel on, and that this travel of mine may 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 79 

prove of some help to some other preachers who may 
read these lines — that is, a man who has just commenced 
— but not these old preachers who are pastors of ''Cross- 
Road Church," or "Rock Creek Church," or "Lonesome 
Vale Church," or "Central Circle Church," and has 
been sawing away once a month, or every Sunday for 
four or five years and not one soul lead to Jesus, 
and no Christian made to feel like shouting while 
this fosilized church of theology has been sawing. 

One of these preachers, who was a piece of a pastor 
of a nice city church, and had D. D. to his name, said 
to me one day after I had asked for the privilege to 
present to his Church the needs of an adjoining section 
of territory, which was destitute of the preached Word 
and he had refused his assistance in the matter. 

This eminent divine remarked : "I never knew a soul 
lead to Christ under my preaching, nor a Christian made 
happy." "But," continued he, "I had studied for the 
ministry and have had some good pastorates that have 
always paid me good salaries." 

I was amazed, I was thunderstruck with the statement 
of this preacher. He could theorize until I was made 
to feel sorry from head to foot, and I am sorry today 
I was even thrown in company with him and was forced 
to listen to his stale thoughts and babyish ideas, though 
he had been preaching twenty years. 



80 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

One thing he did — undertook to abuse Air. D. B. Ray 
of St. Louis for publishing in book form the "Papal 
Controversy," and made other breaks that were worse 
than that, and, while he was in a city of forty thousand 
population, his church was full only when he was to 
marry a couple there or some other big occasion. 

I went to hear him at a regular service. There were 
only about four dozen in the congregation, but hardly 
one-third seemed to care about what the preacher was 
saying. 

The people who belonged to this church were kind, 
indeed, to pay the salary of such a preacher, who never 
had time, or, as many said, was "too lazy" to visit any 
of the members, and pastoral work was too small for 
him to do. 

I inquired, "Did he ever take any interest in looking 
after the poor in his part of the city, and watching after 
the sick." 

"No; he seems to take no interest in anything of the 
kind." 

"Well," said I. "Has your church any committee 
to look after the sick and distressed ones, for in a city 
like this there are afflicted ones and persons who are 
very poor and need some assistance in securing food 
and rainment and getting employment, for this was a 
cardinal doctrine of the Apostolic Church, and that is 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 81 

what we Baptists claim to be, and many will rise up and 
jump on you in a minute if you should say "we Bap- 
tists are not the Church." (Gal. 2:10.) 

"No, sir. We have never had any suggestions from 
our pastor on that line." 

As I talked the crowd increased and all stood and 
listened to the stranger and one said, "We want you to 
remain and preach for us Sunday." "Won't you, please," 
exclaimed several. "We are anxious to hear you on the 
work of the church." 

"I have been preaching night and day for four weeks 
and want to go on to another place where I have prom- 
ised to come as soon as I could, but will remain and 
preach if your pastor says he wants me to," I remarked. 

Two went and saw the pastor, but he informed them 
that "it would not do to be putting up any but him to 
preach on Sunday, and Brother Anderson is tired any- 
way." What else he said I care no more for than I do 
for the feelings of a gnat riding on a buffalo on the 
Rockies. 

How can a preacher who has a Bible and plenty of 
time to read and all the time to pray, (for Paul said, 
"Pray without ceasing"), stand up in the judgment before 
his congregation : "No soul lead to Christ." "No sick 
ones looked after." "No poor ones assisted." "Ser- 



&2 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

mons like moonshine to hungry souls and chaff of the 
lightest grade." 

The world will lose a common citizen when he dies, 
unless he wakes up and gets around on a different speed. 
This poor man, who had the name of being a preacher, 
would also criticise Spurgeon's sermons and those of 
other lesser lights. 

I know that old Noah preached one hundred and 
twenty years and no one was converted, but that is no 
excuse for a Texas preacher to be unfruitful. T said to 
this D. D. preacher, "If I was you, I would take my 
Bible under my arm and go out to the woods with it 
and fast and pray until I starved to death unless I got 
a blessing from the Lord for my people. If I was pastor 
things should change or I would just quit the ministry 
and make my living cutting stove wood or breaking wild 
horses." 

With a smile of contempt and ridicule on his face, I 
bid him adieu, but, Mr. Preacher, I don't want your 
pulpit, but will face you in the Judgment. 

I never did have a small congregation where I preached 
three months, as this D. D. had in this city. To take 
my choice today, with an open Bible before me and a 
crowded house to listen to me preach tonight, I would 
rather die than to be such a preacher, with fifty honored 
titles attached around, to or concerning this body I call 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 83 

mine. I can say, as John Knox said, "Give me souls or 
I die." 

As I before stated, I resigned all my pastoral work on 
account of sickness in 1880, and in October of that year 
went to Whitney in Hill County, where I had a sister 
living, and at this time 1 was more dead than alive. I 
did not do anything until in January, 1886, when I 
commenced to teach school on Cedron Creek in Bosque 
County. 

During the summer of 1881 I assisted Rev. Shelby 
King and others in meetings held under brush arbors in 
various parts of Bosque County. Brother King insisted 
that I should go with him to the Bosque River Associa- 
tion, which met just north of Iredell that year. The 
people of that vicinity had built a large arbor, so some- 
one could preach to the ladies while the delegates car- 
ried on the work of the association in the church, and 
I was appointed to preach to the ladies. 

My father taught me to obey orders of those in author- 
ity, so with a heavy heart I went out to the arbcr to try 
to preach. After taking my seat, I looked over the con- 
gregation to see if there was anyone there that I knew. 
While viewing that large congregation of leaders I saw 
two blue eyes which sent a thrill of joy to my heart, 
while sweet charms sparkled from her lovely eyes. I 
knew I would have her for an attentive listener while I 



84 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

preached that day. I soon said in my heart, "She is 
mine;" "I would bridle a comet, if possible, for her;" 
"Oh ! I would muzzle a cyclone for her heart and hand." 
I inquired who she was, but none could tell me. 

The committee on Divine service inquired of the la- 
dies, "Who do you sisters want to preach for you this 
evening?" 

"Give us Brother Anderson. We were delighted with 
his sermon." 

This was repeated until I preached five sermons to the 
ladies, which brought us to Sunday, 11 a. m., when Dr. 
R. C. Burleson was to preach, and, while the charming 
young lady was there each service, I never had been in- 
troduced to her or found anyone who knew her, but late 
Sunday evening I did find a brother who was acquainted 
with her, and I was soon introduced. 

Soon after we were introduced I asked her could I 
have the pleasure of taking her to church that night in 
the buggy. 

"Brother Anderson; you have my consent, but before 
I will answer definitely I will have to ask my mother," 
was her reply. She excused herself to seek her mother's 
advice. I loved her before, but now I adored her, be- 
cause that one act to honor her mother told me she was 
obedient to mother. 

On the 28th of next May we were married. Two 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 85 

days after we were married they made up a mob to hang 
me. When I heard of the report I inquired of my wife 
and her mother if they believed the report that had 
stirred up all my wife's cousins and friends. 

It was told that I had a wife and two children down 
at Whitney in Hill County, which caused her relatives 
to be enraged at me, and caused them to say I ought to 
be put to death — "Hanging is too good for him." 

I knew it was false to the core, but ere this I had had 
many dark things said against me, which I had been able 
to prove untrue, but now I was in Hamilton County, 
near Hico, among strangers, and I had never run in my 
life when in danger, and now I had just married and I 
resolved that I would now die before I would run one 
inch. I would go and beard the devil in his den and 
make the liar take the lie, or someone would die ere the 
sun went down that day. I had my horse saddled in a 
few minutes, and telling my weeping wife good-bye and 
begging her not to uneasy, that I was cool and I would 
prove to the whole set who were against me or the one 
who started the report an infamous liar. 

I was soon talking to one of her cousins, who lived 
about one mile away. I said to him, "I understand that 
you have a crowd ready to break my neck tonight. Now, 
I want you to tell me who told you that I had a wife 



86 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

and two children at Whitney. " He told me who started 
the report. 

"Do you think I am going to run away, or just let 
you and your crowd come in and take me out and whip 
me half to death or hang me, just as it suits you, with- 
out me defending myself. I am now unarmed, but if I 
can not satisfy you that I am clear of the base charges 
against me, I will certainly kill more of your crowd than 
you can on my side. Get your horse quick and let us 
ride up to see this liar who told you I have a wife and 
two children." 

He called two more of her cousins and we soon rode 
up to where L — 's was. I said to them just before we 
reached him, "You call him out and engage him in con- 
versation about anything' you want to, but don't intro- 
duce him to me when he comes out." To this they 
agreed. 

When he came out they talked with him for five or 
ten minutes, but the minutes passed like hours to me 
although I did try to keep cool. Finally I dismounted 
and stood just in front of him. I said to him, "Do you 
know me?" 

"No, sir," was his reply, and as he looked me in the 
face he turned pale. 

"Are you sure you never saw me before — why you 
<ion't know me?" 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 87 

"I never saw you anywhere that I can remember." 

"Now, think and be sure you know or you don't know 
me." He was still eyeing me closely, because he knew 
from my countenance there was a cyclone raging some- 
where, and he would not take his eyes off of me, while 
the others who went with me stood with sealed lips. 

I again asked, "Do you know me?" 

"I do not;" was his reply. 

"Well, sir; my name is Anderson, the preacher who 
married Miss Willie Malone last Sunday, and your black, 
infamous lies have caused her relatives to make up a 
crowd to hang me tonight. Now you look those men in 
the face and tell them you are the biggest liar this side 
of hell and tell them quick or there will be one man less. 
— perhaps two — mighty quick." ? 

He did not repeat my words, but he turned to them 
and said, "This is not the man I knew at W r hitney; it 
is a mistake. I take it all back. He is not the man." 

I saw that my wife's cousins were glad I proved my- 
self clear, but still I was angry because of the manv hard 
things that had been said against me. One, when he 
heard what a bad man I was, said. "Well, when I first 
saw that man I knew he was a rotten chicken, a bad egg, 
if he does claim to be a preacher. I knew he did not 
have any credentials from a church anywhere, unless they 



88 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

were forged. When you see one of these fellows so po- 
lite and always smiling you can just count on it he's no 
good." 

I turned to her cousins and said, "I did not like any 
of her kinfolks, and if ever I have a home you wait un- 
til I invite you before you come to see us." 

I mounted my horse and rode back to my wife. As 
I rode back home I became almost reckless, thinking 
that I could not even have a pleasant time during the 
honeymoon. 

" Against an elder receive not an accusation but before 
two or three witnesses." (i Tim. 5: 19.) Yet people 
will often take up a report about a minister sooner than 
they will against any other man. I let my mind run 
back over what I had read and heard. 

"Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall 
suffer persecution." (2 Tim. 3: 12.) I rapidly reviewed 
the lives of the Reformer and the bitter persecutions of 
the faithful followers of the Savior in various parts of 
the world and all the past ages. 

"If ye be without chastisements, whereof all are par- 
takers, ye are bastards and not sons." (Heb. 12: 8.) 

I remembered Rev. Z. N. Morrell who wrote the book 
"Flowers and Fruits or 36 years in Texas" lecture to 
us young ministers at Baylor University, in which he said, 
"Young brethren, we old worn-out preachers have had all 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 89 

kinds of lies told on us and all kinds of dangers to face, 
and I pray you to be brave and true, and build up the 
cause of our Blessed Master where we had to fight wild 
Indians and undergo all kinds of hardships and privations. 
I remembered that Dr. J. R. Graves had been whipped 
and Whitefield, so I must not be discouraged at such a 
little thing as that. 

When I reached my wife, she wore a sweet smile and 
seemed proud of her husband. Someone had arrived 
before me and told her what had passed and added to it, 
I expect, because they told her that I would fight any 
number of men, and there was not one particle of fear 
about me. This little affair was soon forgotten by all — 
it was buried. 

I then told my wife if any man or woman, rich or 
poor, should ever come and tell us, or her alone, a lot 
of bad things on anyone, she must never repeat it to 
anyone. Now, after we have been married twenty-five 
years, we have never been engaged or mixd up in any 
neighborhood fuss or scandal, though we walked safely 
over and around volcanoes ready to burst forth in aw- 
ful fury, when someone would have been killed had we 
repeated what had been told to us. Oh! let us all do 
like the eagle — hunt out the nice things to feast on and 
speak words of cheer, instead of going over the world 
like the big brown or black fowl looking for the rotten 
and stinking to feast upon. 



CHAPTER IX. 



SICKNESS AND PIARD WORK. 



In 1889 I moved from near Ross in McLennan County 
to Whitney in Hill County. 

Here I lay for three months near death's door. The 
doctor I called was good and very faithful to me, but 
at last one evening he brought another physician with 
him. These two doctors talked much about my case. 
He told me as he left that he would be back early in the 
morning to see me. When he came he had two other 
doctors with him. They examined me and talked much 
about my case privately. Finally he said, "Anderson, 
we have done all we can for you; now, you tell your 
wife what you want her to do with the children, because 
you can not remain with them over twenty- four hours." 

I knew I was quite sick and had been growing weaker 
all the time for three months, but I was not alarmed at 
the doctor's statement that I could not live over twenty- 
four hours longer. I turned and looked at my wife who 
was sitting near. I saw the big teaers rolling down her 
cheeks. I looked at the three children, who stood by 
their mother's chair, clothed only in tattered garments. 

I said to her, "Wife, I want you to dry up those tears, 
for I am going to get well, for God himself has promised 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 91 

me that I will get well. I will yet live to preach to ten 
thousand people before I die." 

I said to the doctors that they need not come back 
until I sent for them. 

They shook hands with me and §aid they had done all 
they could for me, but if I wanted them they were ready 
to come back at any time. I thanked them and told 
them I felt that they had treated me well, but I would 
get well. 

I had been praying all the time for my recovery and 
God had made it clear to me that I should get well. I 
had the faith to believe He would give me back my 
health. I knew I was trusting the very same Jesus who 
restored the withered hand, the very same Jesus who 
stopped the issue of blood, and told the man who had 
laid at the pool for thirty-eight days to rise up and 
walk. 

That very evening, after the three doctors left I felt 
better. In two weeks I was able to go to work for a 
Bible company, and as all the farmers had made a larger 
crop than ever produced in the country before, money 
was plentiful. When I started to work I run up the 
various bills and debts I owed, which amounted to six 
hundred and fifty dollars. I did not think I could ever 
pay them, but I wanted to pay each one who had been so 



92 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

kind to me in my long spell of sickness. I had no prop- 
erty of any kind. I pursued my business very faithfully 
and in less than six months I had all debts paid and had 
also a nice pair of horses and a good hack clear of in- 
debtedness. I preached nearly every Sunday ; was called 
to two churches by this time. 

There was a little circumstance which happened the 
first week after I got up that gained for me a little no- 
toriety and caused considerable comment in the sur- 
rounding country. I was walking out a little one day 
when I met with about six young men. I knew one or 
two of them who greeted me kindly. When they had 
passed on a little one, a stranger, returned to me and 
said, "Parson, I want to get married and the girl wants 
you to perform the ceremony.*'' I tried to beg off when 
I learned I would have to ride about twelve miles to 
comply with his request, but he insisted, until I con- 
sented to go. As I could not make the ride by 9 o'clock 
a. m. I went part of the way the night before and stayed 
with a friend until morning, when I reached the house on 
time, and told the gentleman my business. He said, 
"Get down and come in, but that fellow is making a 
fool out of you, as there is not a girl in this section 
who would marry him." I went in and stayed until 
dinner and then rode back home in the afternoon. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 93 

When I reached home my wife met me and said, 
"That's one couple you did not marry." 

"How do you know?" I asked. 

One of my friends in town had heard of the joke that 
the young stranger was going to play on me, and fear- 
ing it would cause me a backset and perhaps a relapse, 
came over to tell me about it and for me not to go, 
but I had gone when the friend called. 

I said, "I will make him pay for his smartness." Next 
morning I was feeling much stronger than I really was, 
so I rode out to the farm where this smart young man 
was employed and found him with the same crowd of 
boys and said to him, "You did not come yesterday as 
you told me you would." 

He began to cuss about his bad luck in being fooled. 
I looked him in the face and said, "You have told the 
last lie I want to hear from your lips about this affair. 
You can now take your choice of one of two things: 
You can now pay me my price or go to the penitentiary 
for your smartness, for I will have you in jail before 
night unless I am paid." 

He swelled up and began to talk big, but I told him 
I would wait only two minutes for $5.00, and if it was 
not ready in that time I would return to town and send 
the officer after him. He saw I was in earnest, so he 



94 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

borrowed some of the money and paid me. With a few 
words of good advice I bid him good-bye. 

The boys teased him so much because he was beat at 
his own game that he soon left the country. The boys 
around Whitney had a way that every preacher who 
came into the country, they would make out that they 
were to get married at such an hour and place and cause 
the new preacher to ride fifteen or twenty miles, then 
laugh about what a fool he was, and I was the first 
preacher in the country who ever made the young chap 
pay for the ride. I told it publicly that I was ready to 
ride twenty-five miles any day or night, but the next 
one who fooled me would not get off nearly so light, 
but I never heard of another preacher being fooled. 

I was called to assist pastors in meetings far and near 
so much so that I was preaching nearly all the time. 

In 1892 I was invited by some friends who had moved 
from Hill County to Liberty County to come and preach 
there, as there was not a preacher in the county, and 
men carried on business on Sunday almost like any other 
day. I went down, expecting to remain only two weeks, 
but when I reached there, there was so many pressing 
invitations to preach at various places that I remained 
for six weeks. 

One gentleman came where I was holding a meeting 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 95 

and was very anxious to have me go home with him and 
preach a few sermons at his schoolhouse. He said, "I 
went to town yesterday and spent the last dollar I had, 
but I will give one hundred pounds of nice bacon and 
ten gallons of as fine honey as you ever saw for your 
family, and I think I can make up ten or fifteen dollars 
in cash for you besides among my neighbors, if you will 
only preach us two or three sermons, because my chil- 
dren never heard a sermon and quite a lot of my neigh- 
bor's children are just the same way, and we do want 
them to hear you preach." I saw that he was in earn- 
est. I stood there in deep study and in silent prayer, the 
tears rolling down my cheeks. He saw I hesitated in 
promising him I would go. He said, "I will see that 
you have that much money if I have to borrow it." 

"Kind friend," said I. "Your offer is liberal, indeed, 
but I came to this county to remain only two weeks, but 
pressing invitations like yours have caused me to prom- 
ise to visit different communities and preach, until I am 
engaged four more weeks, which will make six weeks in 
all and I fear I can not come to your neighborhood while 
I am here, for I am nearly three hundred miles from my 
family and don't think I can arrange to stay logner, but 
if circumstances are so I can I will come and preach be- 
fore I return home." 



96 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

There are things ever coming up in our lives that we 
want to do but other obligations and engagements pre- 
vent us from doing, so I could not visit and preach at 
more than one-fourth of the places I had pressing invi- 
tations to while in that section, where the harvest was 
so white and laborers were surely needed. 

The gentleman who had lived in Hill County said to 
me, "You need a horse to ride while you 'are here, but 
mine are all so poor they are not suitable, but neighbor 
Bell has several and I think he will let you have a horse, 
though he is not a member of any church and he stated 
to me today that you were the first preacher he had 
heard in fifteen years." So we walked up to Mr. Bell's. 
I told him my needs. 

"Yes. sir; you can have one of mine to ride as long 
as you stay in this country and if these people don't con- 
tribute liberally to your support you can ride that horse 
back to Hill County and tell the people that one of 
Liberty County's wicked men gave you that horse." 

I rode the horse for about four weeks and when I 
returned it to Mr. Bell he wanted to know how much 
money I had received since I came into the county. I 
told him the total amount. He said, "That is not half 
enough pay for a man like you ; now, you take that horse 
and saddle and ride it home.'' I refused to take the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 97 

horse for two reasons: First, he had contributed liber- 
ally in cash; second, to ride home would prevent me 
reaching home in time to hold meetings I had promised 
to hold. I never will forget Mr. Bell and the roan pony- 
while memory sits upon her throne, and when the leaves 
of Judgment unfold I trust his name will be found writ- 
ten in letters of gold. 

It is said that New Orleans has more pretty women 
than any Southern city, but while I was in Liberty 
county on one occasion I thought there was more pretty 
women in the congregation of its size before me than I 
had ever seen! in one congregation, and I preached against 
the evils of the ballroom on that occasion. Quite a 
number got mad and said they would not hear me again. 
That sermon was discussed freely by all, pro and con. 
In the sermon I said, "Love which began in the ball- 
room was not near as strong, deep and lasting as that 
which sprung up and grew in pure hearts elsewhere, and 
there were more grass-widows in Texas and more di- 
vorce cases on the dockets of our courts caused by ar- 
tificial love commencing in the ballroom than all other 
causes put together. 

The day after I preached that sermon I was told many 
of the comments and some thought I would not have 

7— a 



98 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

many to hear me the next night, but the house was filled 
as before, and after I preached that night and had dis- 
missed the congregation several ladies came up to tell 
me how much they appreciated my sermon and especially 
the one last night against the ballroom and its attend- 
ing evils. 

One beautiful young lady with a precious babe in her 
arms said, "Brother Anderson ; you are the only minister 
that ever visited our town who had the moral courage 
to preach against dancing. I listened to you carefully 
and I know by sad experience you preached the truth 
last night. I met my husband first in the ballroom, but 
now he is gone — God alone knows where." It seemed 
that her heart would almost break with grief as she re- 
lated to me her sorrow, while the teaers rolled down her 
cheeks and fell upon the babe in her arms as she bid 
me adieu. "My earnest prayer is that you may live long 
and warn hundreds of girls, so their fate will not be as 
mine. ,, 

Among the fair ladies who listened to the sermon 
against dancing were five grass-widows. 

I also visited Wallisville, the county seat of Cham- 
bers County. This beautiful little town is situated on 
the Trinity River, near where the river empties into Gal- 
veston Bay. I remained and preached daily for five 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 99 

days. There were about thirty convertions. The nice 
church was crowded at each service and I was treated 
with great kindness by everyone I met, and all united in 
trying to get me to remain longer. Once I went out 
sailing with a party and once while the boat was sailing 
very fast it dipped to one side and I moved my seat, 
when one of the gay crowd said, "I see the preacher is 
a little afraid and is not ready to die yet awhile." 

At the last service every sinner in the congregation 
was forward for prayer, except two. I stated to the 
audience that I felt that God was making the last call 
to repent that He ever would make and insisted on all 
to repent with greater power and earnestness than I was 
ever enabled to do before. I saw a gentleman who was 
greatly affected by the sermon and I knew he was striv- 
ing against the spirit. I pleaded earnestly but in vain 
with him. His boat was loaded and ready to sail for 
Galveston next morning. I went down to see the boat 
start, for it was a grand and new scene to me. I met 
the gentleman referred to above on the shore. He said, 
"You came near getting me up to the altar last night, 
but you will come back when I have more time and then 
I will join the church and lead a better life." He of- 
fered me a free trip to Galveston and he would pay all 
my expenses while in the city and insisted on my going, 



ioo From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

but I told him I was to preach that night about ten miles 
away and I could not disappoint the people. 

He soon hoisted the sails and sailed out into the bay. 
About eleven o'clock a gale struck his boat and all on 
board were drowned. The sad news was brought to 
the city by a captain whose boat survived the storm. 
That man never lived to join the church and lead a bet- 
ter life. God never takes a man to heaven against his 
will and I fear this gentleman was eternally lost, but I 
hope he was saved. 

While in Liberty and Chambers counties young men 
and women came to hear me preach who said they never 
heard a sermon before. "The harvest truly is plenteous, 
but the laborers are few." (Matt. 9: 37.) 

After they had taken a collection for me at Devers, I 
preached a sermon on the marriage relation. At the 
close of the sermon an aged gentleman walked up to 
me and said, "Brother Anderson, here is another dollar; 
it is the last one I have. I wish I had forty-nine more 
to go with it, because the sermon today was the grandest 
I ever listened to." 

It surely does a poor preacher good to know his ser- 
mons do the people good. Every place where I preached 
the people tried to get me to remain longer with them. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 101 

That section of Texas is a level country and mostly 
prairie with 1 big cow ranches here and there. 

After I had spent six weeks in this section, where the 
harvest was so white and laborers so few, I told the peo- 
ple that if I could get the churches in Hill County where 
I lived to aid me I would return and live among them 
and be their servant and minister. I told the ministers 
when I reached home about the country and how anxious 
the people were for preaching and I wanted them to help 
me raise one hundred dollars so I could move to that 
section, where I was needed. One minister promptly 
told me that I must not take any money from anyone 
unless I was sure to get enough to move on, from the 

fact that Brother went over the country here 

and raised one hundred and seventy-five dollars to go to 
China as a missionary, but never went; but instead 
bought a fine suit of clothes and married and quit preach- 
ing. Also another brother went to the different churches 
here and raised quite a sum to aid him to go to the 
frontier of Texas to preach to the people there. He 
also got married and never went to the frontier to 
preach. "So I fear under the circumstances you will 
find it difficult to raise what you need to enable you to 
move to Liberty. But," said he, "You have done so 
much faithful preaching here, we ought to make you 



102 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

three hundred hundred dollars instead of two hundred." 

I went to see the sixteen Baptist ministers in Hill 
County and all said about the same in substance, but 
added, "If you can get the money to go on, I think it 
will be a good thing, because there are more preachers 
here than churches." 

After trying for about thirty days to raise the money 
I was forcd to give up the idea of moving to the coast 
region for the present at least. I declined the call to 
serve the churches that called me, hoping and trusting 
that God would provide a way for me to move to that 
field of vast destitution, but aided pastors in meetings at 
various churches in the surrounding country, and while 
some criticised me for wanting to move away to a new 
field, God did wonderfully bless me in preaching, and 
hundreds of men and women were converted and added 
to the churches. 

It would have been an easy matter to have raised the 
money I needed to move with if the other ministers who 
raised money to go to China and the frontier of Texas 
had gone as they promised. 

As I look back over those days of sore trials and hard- 
ships, I don't think hard of anyone. Oh! I wish God 
would bless my preaching today as He did in those days 
when my heart was burdened with trials hard to bear. 



CHAPTER X. 

SUCCESS IN A FINANCIAL WAY AND PREACHING. 

When I recovered from long sickness at Whitney I 
was deep in debt and I did not see any way of paying 
up soon, yet I prayed for help and went to work with 
a wim as an agent. My success surprised my friends 
and I was delighted when I was able to settle my ac- 
counts. I was not called to any church as pastor, but 
called to aid pastors in meetings at their churches and 
I would make appointments in communities where they 
had no preaching, but there was no collections taken for 
me unless I was especially invited by the church. 

I was invited by the Prairie Valley Church out south 
of Whitney, some eight miles. As I was on my way 
to this church to preach a week I met a good brother 
who knew the membership of this church and said, "I 
am surprised that you are going there to preach, because 
that church does not believe in paying a preacher for 
preaching and claims that preachers ought not to be 
paid. That church paid the preacher who preached for 
them one whole year only two dollars and fifty cents; 



104 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

that is a poor place for you to go to, as you have a 
family of little children and have house rent to pay." 

I said to this good brother, "God raised me up last 
fall when the doctors said I could not get well and He 
has otherwise blessed me, and I am going to preach if 
I don't get a cent from this church." I proceeded on 
my journey and remained and preached about ten days. 
About thirty-five members were added to the church. The 
whole community was stirred by the preaching of the 
pastor and myself. The brethren proposed to take a 
collection for me and when the money was counted it 
amounted to about twenty dollars. I was treated with 
great kindness by all. 

There was a gentleman who was not in the habit of 
attending services, but came to hear me regularly during 
this meeting. He was a learned and wealthy man. They 
were surprised and glad to see Col. Sanderson at church. 
After he had listened to one of my sermons he came and 
we were introduced. I had been told he would not let 
a preacher come in his house if he knew it, but he spoke 
highly of my sermon, whereupon I said I was truly glad 
that the Christian people were enjoying them. 

He said, "I don't belong to any church, but I want to 
welcome you to our community as a preacher and want 
you to go home with me." I accepted his invitation. He 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 105 

treated me with great kindness while at his home and 
asked me to feel welcome to call at any time and make 
his house my home during the meeting. I soon found 
that he was a well read and educated man. He, had 
been a member of the church before the war, but he had 
lost his negroes; this and other causes combined seemed 
to have driven him away from duty as a Christian, and 
nothing that I could say would turn him from his way 
of living, yet he attended the meeting most of the time. 

At the close of this meeting he came to me, while sur- 
rounded by a crowd of brethren, and said : 

''Anderson, all preachers like Beecher, Talmage and 
others who are learned, have preached hell out of the 
Bible long ago, but I see by your preaching that you 
have no better sense than to preach it red hot; yet I 
think we (naming a number of wealthy men in that sec- 
tion) ought to buy you a good home and furnish your 
family with all they need and let you go around and 
preach all the time, because if you can get the men every- 
where to believe as you have the people here believing — 
as you have made them believe — they will not be slip- 
ping around cutting your wire fences and breaking in 
your smoke house while you are asleep. Here is five 
dollars, and if you ever need anything in the way of 



106 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

provisions just come to my house in your wagon and 
get a supply, for I aim to help you as long as you preach 
like you have been preaching.' ' 

It was hard for me to place him — he would at times 
talk like he was a Christian, then again as if he was an 
infidel, but was ever kind to me and willing to aid me 
financially. 

There was another noted man who attended this meet- 
ing, who became offended at my preaching. He left the 
house in a rage and swore that he would whip me when 
I left the pulpit that day. As we had dinner on the 
ground I soon learned of his remarks, and the brethren 
were uneasy for fear he would do me bodily harm, but 
I stated to them I hardly knew the man when I saw 
him and I never knew anything about him and I 
was sure I had said nothing to or about him personally, 
and therefore I could not see why he should be so angry 
at me. He made some threats, but that was all — a few 
days afterwards he was converted and he said to me, 
"I never was as mad at anyone as I was at you and I 
thought that I would certainly try to knock you down, 
but somehow I felt that I had better not raise a disturb- 
ance at church." 

While I assisted pastors in the surrounding vicinity 
in meetings during the summer months, I was not paid 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 107 

as much as sixty-five dollars for ministerial work. I 
was called on to perform more marriage ceremonies than 
any other two or three preachers in that section and the 
young men generally paid me well and in the fall I 
worked as an agent and made some money and would 
preach nearly every Sunday somewhere. 



CHAPTER XL 



SOME SORE TRIALS. 



In 'the winter of 1893 tne brethren of Mertens' Bap- 
tist church aided me in building a small house, into 
which I moved in February, 1894. A few days before 
I moved from Whitney a good brother remarked to me, 
"Brother Anderson, I could not stand the trials which 
I know you have bravely stood no more than I could 
fly." 

I said to him, "God tries our faith 1 and leads us through 
afflictions to bring or draw us nearer to Him, and Jesus 
stood more sorrow than any of us are called upon to 
stand that sinners might be saved, and God, who calls 
us to go through trials, will drive the darkest clouds 
away and all will be bright some day. (Psa. 84: 11.) 
I lived at Mertens three years. While I lived at Mer- 
tens I assisted pastors in meetings in Hill and adjoining 
counties and various parts of the State. 

In the year 1894 over four hundred were added to 
the churches where I held meetings. Some of these 
meetings I did all the preaching; in others the pastor 
did half or a part of the preaching. The number who 
joined the churches where I was called to preach the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 109 

other two years while I lived at Mertens were about the 
same. In building the house at Mertens I was forced 
to go in debt and the contributions for my services at 
the various meetings that I held were not sufficient to 
meet the obligations above the support of my family. 

When I moved to this little town I announced in our 
two Baptist papers that I would devote my time to 
Evangelistic work and would be glad to aid pastors who 
would need aid ir^ holding meetings. A brother preacher 
who had quit preaching, as he said, "because the churches 
did not want him," said to me after he read my articles 
in the papers: "I see you have gone gone into the 
evangelistic work just for the money there is in it; if 
you get plenty of money let me know and I will enter it, 
too." He made some severe remarks about evangelists 
in general which I regretted to hear. I told him when 
God would not longer bless my 1 preaching to the salva- 
tion of souls I would want to quit preaching or die. 

I had just closed a good meeting in which about fifty 
was converted and added to the church by baptism. He 
went on to make sport of my preaching and work in 
general which caused me to ask myself the question: 
"Why is this brother offended at me?" but I could not 
call up or think of one unkind word I had ever said 
against or about him on any occasion. 



no From the Plains to the Pulpit 

Another brother told me in Hillsboro one day that 
this same preacher was in favor of taking the creden- 
tials away from all evangelists and not let them preach 
unless they were called as pastor of some church. At 
that time our two Baptist papers, published in Texas, 
were going against each other and to the candid think- 
ing membership of the denomination it seemed that it 
was on account of the money there was in the paper 
business. Each paper had its friends, and this bitter 
feeling increased until it was a shame, but I will let 
others more worthy write this history; but because they 
were bitter against each other I asked the editors to 
please stop my papers because I did not want my chil- 
dren to read them while they were quarreling with each 
other. 

While God blessed my work as a minister wonderfully, 
there were other causes why the churches where I la- 
bored could not contribute enough money to meet my 
obligations coming due. There were two preachers who 
were not preaching to any church who were apparently 
bitter against me, and now a climax was reached — notes 
were due and some small accounts also, so I sold my 
two horses, also a good two-horse hack and everything 
else that I owned to pay up all I owed, but yet I con Id 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. in 

not settle in full. I still owed one hundred and thirty 
dollars. 

One of these preachers who was so bitter against me 
said, "Tf we do our duty now, we will take Anderson's 
credentials and make him stop preaching." 

So he preferred charges against me in the church: 
First, not paying my debts; second, not providing my 
children with clothes so they could attend school. I was 
notified of the charges. I said to the brothers. "I have 
paid out all the money I could raise to pay up my debts, 
instead of buying a good supply of clothing, hoping that 
I could a little later arrange so my little children could 
go to school. I have sold my horses and everything I 
could do without, to pay up and good monied friends 
have proposed to make good notes at the banks, either 
in Hillsboro or Itasca, if they would loan the amount I 
needed, but the banks would not loan money to anyone 
because cotton had dropped to four cents, and the banks 
were strained. Now, I am sorry that such charges are 
against me in the church, when God knows I have done 
all in my power to meet all my obligations, and I know 
these charges are made against me by those preachers 
who two years ago said I must give up my credentials 
and quit preaching." 

The next meeting day I was at home and in conference 



ii2 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

I explained my condition and told the church that the 
banks would not loan any money, so I had failed to meet 
the obligation due. I gave the names of three or four 
men of wealth who would make the notes good if I could 
borrow the money from any bank or individual. I stated 
that perhaps someone present might tell me where I 
could borrow the money, with the aid of men of wealth 
on the notes, but no one could. When my side of the 
case was examined, the church was satisfied, and the 
charges were dismissed. 

When this was done, the preacher who was so bitter 
against me jumped up and made a speech that I think 
the devil was proud to hear. He accused the brethren 
of the church of being fickle-minded, of being two-faced, 
etc., and said that he would not be satisfied until I was 
deposed from the ministry. He charged me with things 
I was not guilty of, which I denied and called for proofs 
of his charges, but he failed to give any. He said his 
word was sufficient. He had broken up another church 
near, where he would not listen to others, and it seemed 
he was determined to rule now in this church, and ruin 
me or the church. 

I never was in a better spirit or humor in my life 
than I was at that time. I was sorry for him. I knew 
he was wrong, but no one could get him to see any 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 113 

other way. He asked the church to assemble early that 
night, with conference still open, when my papers as a 
minister would be demanded. That night the house was 
crowded — all came to see how the matter would be set- 
tled. Remember the charges were made against me one 
month before, and in the meantime I had been to see 
some ministers and had written to others to get their 
advice as to what I should do. All the ministers that 
I sought counsel of said the church would have a right 
to withdraw fellowship from me if I was guilty of un- 
christian conduct, but otherwise they would not have 
the right to take my credentials without a council of 
ministers. 

I stated to the church that night, "If they wanted my 
papers, the church must call a council of ministers, and 
if they recommended that I surrender to them my pa- 
pers, I was willing to do so, but otherwise I would not 
surrender my papers." 

This statement made some of the members mad, and 
they joined the mad preacher against me. I knew I had 
four friends in that congregation to each person who 
was against me. I earnestly prayed that God would give 
me grace to bear all they could say against me without 
getting angry. The preacher, who was a member of the 

8— a 



ii4 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

church, made one bitter speech after another against me. 
I became uneasy for his personal safety for fear some 
of my friends in the audience would assail him with 
something more severe than words. 

Nothing I could say would satisfy a few of them now, 
and I must surrender my papers and let the church keep 
them for me; this I refused to do. At last the vote of 
the church was called for and each member who was in 
favor of me giving up my papers must stand up. There 
was one hundred and three members and twenty-seven 
rose up while the rest remained in their seats. Then a 
number of speeches were made and then those who were 
not in favor of me giving up my papers should rise. A 
number said they thought the whole proceedings were 
wrong ?nd would not vote either way. 

One brother, Prof. W. G. Beaver, rose up, with tears 
rolling down his cheeks, and said: 

"Brethren, I have known Brother Anderson for five 
years. I have heard him preach often and have known 
Christians to get happy and shout while he was preach- 
ing, and more sinners have been converted in his meet- 
ings than under any preacher in the county, and I would 
suffer my right arm to be cut off before I would vote 
against him. A man who will quit circular work at $75 
per month to devote his life to winning souls from sin to 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 115 

Christ, as he has done, should be aided all we can in- 
stead of trying to hinder or injure him, and I vote 'No' 
that I want to sound over Texas." 

After several had made speeches against Brother 
Beaver, I rose and made them a talk. I told them God 
would show them some day that they had done wrong 
and he would punish them in some way ; that I was sorry 
I was not able to settle my accounts in full, but I would 
do this; another thing, I would move away from the 
town in the near future and I felt that God would sus- 
tain me and give me friends wherever I went. 

The next day at church a number of friends who were 
at church the night before came to me and spoke words 
of cheer and handed me cash. One said as he handed 
me money, "Times are hard, indeed, but here is money 
to meet your needs for your family ; if this is not enough 
come and get what you need." 

On Monday following a gentleman who lived in the 
town and owned a large farm near said to me, "You 
said yesterday you were going to move away from here ; 
now, we have been talking about you and your work 
since this church affair has come up. If you will decide 
to remain here and still preach as you have done in this 
section we will buy the place you have let go to satisfy 
your creditors; we will also buy you two good horses 



n6 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

and a buggy, or a better hack than the one you sold and 
cows enough to give your family all the milk and butter 
they need; in short, we will make you comfortable." I 
told him that his kind offer was appreciated, but I felt 
it was my duty to move away and my wife did not want 
to live here any longer, where she would from day to 
day see those who had been so bitter against me. 

"I have arranged to move near Houston, and if you 
will aid me to move there is all that I will ask now of 
my friends." 

I heard my friends abuse those who were so bitter 
against me on the night of conference above referred to. 
I can never forget those friends who were so kind to 
me during those dark days. I received letters from 
brethren in different parts of the State containing words 
of cheer and aid. The brethren of churches near said 
they would bring up my case in the Association and have 
the church to rescind her act demanding my credentials, 
but I begged them to let it alone; that I did not care 
any more for it than I did the decrees of the devil in 
hell. 

When I went to leave the church offered to give me a 
letter in full fellowship and good standing. This letter 
I refused because, according to their own conduct toward 
me, it contained a falsehood. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. WJ 

With many letters of recommendation from able min- 
isters who knew all the circumstances, and stating that 
I was a worthy and a faithful worker, etc., I moved 
from Mertens to near the little town of Westfield in 
Harris County, eighteen miles from the city of Houston. 
I moved away from Mertens in March and in May a 
cyclone came upon the town and the church building in 
which they had that conference was blown into splinters 
and kindling wood, the house that a man forced me to 
give up at half price and in which I had lived was treated 
the same way. I wrote to those men after the cyclone 
I was glad and thankful, indeed, that the Lord made me 
move before the cyclone came. 

I lived near Westfield for four years and God blessed 
my work wherever I preached. I took my credentials 
and letters of recommendation from the ministers who 
knew all about my church trial, and presented myself for 
membership in a church that soon called me as their 
pastor. This church was at Clodine, which church I 
served for three years. 



CHAPTER XII. 

A TRIP TO THE ABILENE COUNTY. 

While I lived at Mertens I had been invited and beg- 
ged to come to the Abilene country and hold some meet- 
ings with churches in Taylor and Jones Counties. I 
was speaking of this one day in the presence of Mr. G. 
W. Savage, who lived near Hubbard City, whereupon 
he remarked, "Would you not like to take a trip out 
there with me, as I am going soon?'' 

I thought over the trip and decided to go with him, 
so we went in my hack and drove two good horses. Mr. 
Savage was a wicked man of wealth, yet liberal and kind 
to the poor. He would sometimes take, as some say, a 
toddy. 

When we reached Hillsboro he met with a lot of his 
friends, and when they learned I was going with him to 
his western ranch, they laughed and said to him, that he 
was taking the preacher with him so the people with 
whom he staid all night would not charge him, but this 
was never thought of by Mr. Savage. 

I had asked him before we left home how far would 
he want to travel per day ; he said twenty-five or thirty 
miles, that would be far enough, because he would want 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 119 

to ride his horse after he reached the ranch. We only 
traveled about thirty miles the first day, because we did 
not start very early and then we had stopped in Hills- 
boro to have the horses shod, but the second day we went 
forty-five miles. I said to him, "We are driving a little 
too hard,, are we not?" 

"Yes; perhaps we had better not drive so hard to- 
morrow." The next night we found that we had trav- 
eled about fifty miles, but the roads were good and the 
horses in good trim. We made from fifty to sixty miles 
per day, and we happened to call to stay all night with 
two friends of mine as we went out, that I had not seen 
for several years. They would not take any money for 
lodging and not a single one wanted to charge us for 
staying all night, but if the man would not take the 
money Mr. Savage would give one or two of the girls; 
one dollar and a half each, or he would lay the money 
on the table and refuse to take it back, so I fear that my 
being with him caused him to pay out more money than 
he would have paid if he had been by himself. 

I was called upon by the gentleman with whom we 
were stopping for the night to read the Bible and pray 
with the family, with only one exception, as we went 
out. 



120 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

Mr. Savage always would have me inquire if we could 
stay all night, and one evening, when we were in a sec- 
tion of country where houses were scarce, we called at 
a house a little while before sundown to know if we 
could stay with the occupant for the night. The gentle- 
man told us he did not want to take us in, but it was 
five miles to the next house, and we offered to pay him 
well. 

"No," said he. "You can stay, but I will not charge 
you anything." We were glad because our horses had 
traveled about sixty miles that day and we did not want 
to drive them another five miles. 

This gentleman, when he learned^ that I was a preacher, 
was free to express his sentiments about the church, and 
he told some "yarns" on the preachers that he had known. 

I replied to his remarks against the church and the 
Bible in a pleasant but firm manner. He did not have 
a Bible in his house, neither did he want one, and we 
were shown our room without praying with the family. 

I relate these facts because people talking about peo- 
ple way out West, or when you are in other States, the 
Texas people are so wicked that they will not respect a 
preacher if they were to see one. 

The next morning when I asked what our bill was this 
gentleman said, "I told you last night that you could 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 121 

stay without money just as well as with it;" and he re- 
fused to take any and would not let his little ,dov have 
what we made him a present of, but said that we could 
stay on our return trip if we so desired. "Because," said 
he, "I had a pleasant chat with the preacher, and I will 
have another talk fixed by the time you return." 

After we were on our journey Mr. Savage said he 
would never call to stay with that man again if he could 
help himself, because he was so unkind to me and told 
things unpleasant about preachers, just as though I were 
responsible for what all preachers did. 

I said to him that Jesus was reviled and put to death 
by the very ones He came to save, and I did not mind 
the remarks of this new friend, because he was otherwise 
kind to us. 

We reached the ranch, thirty-five miles west of Abi- 
lene, without anything unusual happening. When we ar- 
rived we found everyone in the vicinity who owned 
horses on the range ready for the great round-up of the 
spring, but the news soon spread over the community 
that there was a preacher at Mr. Geo. Gant's ranch. 

The next day after we arrived, in the evening several 
gentlemen who had been rounding up their cattle, pen- 
ned them at Mr. Gant's to brand them. I walked down 
to the pen and was introduced to all of the new men. 



122 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

They hatd been told there was a preacher at the house 
and that he claimed to have been raised in the saddle 
after stock. 

One proposed to bet all the cattle he had in the pen 
that I was a fraud. Another offered to bet that I was 
a gambler who Mr. Savage had brought along v/ith him 
to win all his expense money. 

Of course all this passed before I reached the pen, I 
found them a jolly good set of stockmen. One asked 
me if I could rope. I said I was once second to but 
few, but I had not used the rope in quite a while and I 
knew I was not in practice. I had noticed that none of 
them were really good with the lasso. 

I by invitation tried my hand and caught by the feet: 
all were watching every move I made. One of them 
soon remarked, "I don't know so much about your 
preaching ability, but I know you can beat anyone here 
catching yearlings by the feet." Then they began to ask 
questions how it was I quit the stock business and went 
to preaching and where I had run stock and other sim- 
ilar questions. 

After we had branded the cattle, they asked me when 
I was going to preach in their vicinity. I told them 
where I had agreed to preach, but they wanted to hear 
me preach before they went on the round-up after the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 123 

horses. I told them if I could get a congregation I would 
preach that night. 

"All right; we will get you a crowd tonight/' There 
was a large schoolhouse about three miles from the 
ranch. This jolly good crowd of new friends rode out 
in different directions to tell the people that there would 
be preaching that night at the schoolhouse by a preacher 
who was raised in the stock business. 

"I don't know what kind of a preacher he is; good 
or bad, but he can throw the lasso like an old-time cow- 
puncher," and other remarks t of that kind were made 
that evening as they told the people of the meeting. 

The country around this ranch was a rough mountain- 
ous section, with beautiful valleys of rich land here and 
there, so one could not see far either way unless he was 
in one of these beautiful valleys, and while I was told 
quite a number of people lived near, I could not see any 
houses from the ranch. 

When I reached the schoolhouse that night I saw car- 
riages and buggies all around and where the people came 
from I did not know, but they were there to hear the 
new man preach who could throw the lasso and catch 
the wild cow. I was introduced to several who were 
members of the Baptist and Methodist churches. The 
brethren gave me a hearty welcome. 



124 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

Now, people talk about the rough, wicked people who 
live in Texas, in the country of big cow ranches, often 
as though they were only half civilized. Before me sat 
a congregation of refined people; the singing was good 
and the best of behavior by everyone present. I enjoyed 
preaching to them and at the close of the sermon quite 
a number wished to know if I could not preach again 
the next night. 

They pressed me to preach in such a way, stating that 
they had not heard a sermon or saw a preacher in so 
long that they wanted me to preach again. I called to 
the congregation to please be seated for a few minutes, 
which they promptly did. I then made them a talk and 
told them of the places that I had agreed to preach and 
hold meetings before I returned home and told them I 
was willing to preach for them a week if they wanted me 
to, and would and could attend. 

A few arose and stated how they felt in the matter 
and I was called on to put the question to the entire 
audience. They decided that they would come to church 
at least for a week. The round-up was postponed for 
the meeting. 

During this meeting of five days some men brought 
their families twenty-five miles and remained until it 
closed. Many Christians were made happy during the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 125 

meetings and sinners were saved, and before I had 
preached five days at this schoolhouse in the mountains, 
I had received invitations enough to keep me preaching 
six months if I had agreed to go. 

One brother said to me, "I thought you must be a fraud 
when I first saw you, but that idea is all gone now, and 
I want you to go to my town and preach one week at 
least at my expense. I will carry you there in my car- 
riage, give you a nice room in my home, the best the 
market affords, and pay you twenty-five dollars myself 
and I think I can get two or three others to pay you 
that amount." 

This brother lived in Ozona in Crockett County, about 
one hundred and eighty miles away. I wanted to com- 
ply with his request, but it was impossible, for I had 
other appointments that I must fill. 

At the close of this meeting the stockmen said I must 
go with them a few days on the round-up because I 
needed some rest from preaching before I commenced 
another meeting. I told them I would not be worth my 
feed as a hand because I did not know the range and 
would get lost, but I decided to go a few days with them, 
as I wanted to see that country, which was so beautiful, 
before I left it. 



126 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

The first day's run I managed to get into camp all 
right without any misfortune during the day, but one 
man's horse stepped into a "dog hole." The man was 
hurt in the fall so he had to lay up a few days and his 
horse was crippled. 

During this day I saw my first bunch or herd of ante- 
lopes. They were certainly beautiful, but all were too 
busy after wild horses to chase the antelopes or even 
halt long enough to shoot one. 

There were quite a number of badgers in the country 
we were in and I had expressed a desire to see one and 
would like to carry one back home with me. There was 
a Mexican in our crowd that seemed to like me and he 
chased a herd of wild horses so far that day that his 
horse failed and he had to lead him back to camp, and 
he cut across the mountain the nearest way; while lead- 
ing his horse over the mountain he saw a badger and 
caught it. 

I soon found that the badger was very bad to fight, 
and as we had no cage or suitable way to take care of 
it, we were forced to either kill it or set it free, and all 
said, "kill it," and soon there was one badger less. I 
never had a desire since to capture one. 

I staid with them on the round-up only three days, but 
I was treated with great kindness by all. In this time 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 127 

we had gathered many horses and I can say there was 
many fine animals in the herd. 

While out with them I met for the first time Uncle 
Bob Ferguson, who lived at Brandon in Hill County, but 
had a large horse ranch in Jones County. He had on 
his range about five thousand head of horses, as I was 
told. He had been in the horse raising business all his 
life and was now over seventy years old, yet he was still 
riding the range. I found him very pleasant to converse 
with and he could tell of many narrow escapes he had 
with range work, robbers and thieves. 

I will here relate one of his narrow escapes from 
death. He had sold all the cattle he had on the range 
in the Abilene country and had received the pay in cash — 
nearly ten thousand dollars — and he decided to take this 
money and go home — nearly three hundred miles away 
— and spend the winter with his family at Brandon, 
Texas. His friends advised him to go to the nearest 
express office and send the money home by express, but 
he would not take their advice, so selecting two old 
ponies and having the money concealed under his clothes, 
he left the ranch late one evening alone. It was soon 
known that Uncle Bob had left for home and some bad 
men heard of it and heard that he had a large sum of 
money with him, but neither of these bad men knew 



128 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

Uncle Bob personally, and they decided to follow him 
and get his money. They had him pictured out in their 
minds how this great horse raiser and rancher would 
lock, but they were badly mistaken. They overtook him 
one evening. One said to him, "Old man, where are you 
going?" Uncle Bob told them he was going down East 
to see if he could get some kind of work to do, as times 
were hard out West where he lived and his old ponies he 
hoped to sell so he and his wife would have something 
to live on the coming winter. He wore an old hat, run- 
down shoes, and otherwise his garb seemed to say "he 
is old and poor." After riding some miles with him 
and hearing his tale of hardships the would-be robbers, 
three in number, took up a collection among themselves 
to help this old man, and the three galloped ahead, to 
overtake the wealthy cow man who had a large sum of 
money on him. He reached his home without anything 
happening to him or his money. 

In the country embraced in the counties lying adjacent 
to Abilene the land is rich, with mountains here and there, 
with fertile valleys dotted with ranches and nice farms, 
but most of the settlers are engaged more or less in rais- 
ing stock. The farmers of this section, like many others 
in the West, have to contend with the "prairie dogs." 
These little pests are to be found by the thousands. They 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 129 

live in "towns" and their town may cover one acre or it 
may cover twenty acres or more. It is said when they 
raise a lot of young, which is every spring, the old dogs 
will drive out the young ones so they leave the old or 
mother town in a drove and go out to build them a town. 
Wheat fields or oats or any other crop they should come 
upon they destroy, and the dogs go^ farther and farther 
away from their towns as they eat out the grass and in 
this way they find the farmer's growing crop, and unless 
they are checked or killed out with poison, that farmer 
will not gather much if any crop from that field. 

As I said before, the old dogs drive out the young 
ones to establish a new town. I am not certain about 
it. Some say the old dogs leave the young dogs in pos- 
session of the old town, while they go out to build a 
new one, .but there is an emigration from these old towns 
annually and many new towns are made each year in the 
section where prairie dogs abound. They make their 
town by burroughing holes in the ground a few steps 
apart. They live in pairs, and generally each pair raises 
four little dogs per year, so they increase rapidly. In 
some counties the people living in the county have united 
to exterminate them by poisoning, but it takes a united 
effort to rid the county of these pests. They destroy 

9— a 



130 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

much grass and the stockman wants them off the range. 
Then another reason the stockman wants them destroyed 
is that these towns are dangerous to run over, because 
their horses step into the "dog holes" and down goes 
horse and rider. Sometimes neither is seriously hurt, 
while again one or the other may be crippled for life. 

These little dogs cannot run very fast, but it is hard 
to cut one off from his hole, as he feeds near ; if you ap- 
proach he runs towards his hole and should you proceed 
towards him he runs in and all the dogs around will do 
the same, and as you ride away they will put out iheir 
heads with care and look around and if you are far 
enough away, they sit up on the little mound of dirt near 
their hole and bark with great fury at you. Sometimes 
as you are traveling along you will not see a dog, when 
all at once a turn in the road cr rising on higher ground 
you will come in view of a thousand, perhaps, because 
they appear to cover the ground as far as you can see. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

A DAY AT HIGH ISLAND. 

This noted little town is situated on the Gulf & Inter- 
state Railroad, almost half way between the cities of 
Galveston and Beaumont, the later place being the great 
oil town of Texas. 

While I was pastor of the Port Bolivar Church I was 
invited to come to High Island to hold a meeting of 
days. This was in 1899, the year before the great Gal- 
veston storm. 

When I reached this place I soon learned some things 
that surprised me. The inhabitants of the place were 
most of them born and raised in Texas and the majority 
of them engaged in the stock business, while some were 
engaged in raising vegetables for the market. I can say 
the people gladly heard me preach and the services were 
well attended. The days I remained and preached I 
was treated with great kindness by all, and between the 
services I was escorted over the islands and shown some 
of the peculiarities of the place. 

While it is called "Islands/' the name is misleading. 
The Islands proper are bounded on the east by the Gulf 
of Mexico, while Galveston Bay lies to the west, and 



132 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

the "Islands" are very large hills on the peninsula, rising 
high above all the surrounding country. These high 
hills called "The Islands" cover three or four thousand 
acres of land, which is very fertile. There are beautiful 
groves of live oaks here and there over the "Islands." 

Here I saw some of the largest trees of live oak I ever 
saw. In one of our tours around the "Islands" we 
went to the graveyard ; in this city of the dead are buried 
a number of the Texas heroes. A number were with 
Houston at the battle of San Jacinto. Here also were 
the graves of some of the men who fought and helped 
to drive out from Galveston island the bold pirate, La- 
Fitte. 

Capt. Cade, who owned more cattle than any other by 
far, said to me, "Anderson, you see those places here 
around the base of these hills where there is a peculiar 
grass growing." I informed him I had noticed them. 

"Well, they are what we call here 'sink holes/ " said 
he. "When there is a high tide the water comes from 
the gulf about two miles away, up through those holes, 
or rather marshy places, and covers the land around with 
salt water and when the tide goes back the water returns 
to the gulf and dries up around them. While the grass 
is growing all over the surface it will hardly hold up a 
man's weight. If a cow or horse should run into one it 



From the Plains to the Pulpit, 133 

would soon sink out of sight. A horse or cow which is 
raised here cannot be either driven or rode into one of 
those places." 

I found that the sink holes varied in size from ten feet 
across to perhaps a hundred or more feet. Sometimes 
a large wild calf, if cut off from its mother and being 
chased, will run into one of them and soon sinks out of 
sight. 

Several remarkable stories were told me concerning 
the mishaps they have caused. Once a poor man, mov- 
ing with his family in a one-horse hack, stopped near 
one of the places for dinner and to let his horse graze; 
soon his horse was in one of the sink holes and a few 
minutes later was down out of sight. Parties who lived 
there and brought in stock from other places lost them 
in the same way, but not always, because stock would 
soon learn of the danger and shun them like a horse 
which has been cut on the barbed wire will shun the 
wire. 

Here I saw my first gas well. I have forgotten how 
deep the well was dug, if I was told, but the water in 
the well stood within about ten feet of the top and while 
standing near the well, although you could not see the 
water, it was boiling up with such force that it seemed 
as though there were a lot of geese in the well. Mr. 



134 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

Smith, the owner of this well, had built over it a house 
and had run a gas pipe down in the well and then around 
the sides of the house, with gas jets arranged so you 
could fry eggs at one place, make coffee at another, etc. 
This was before oil was discovered near Beaumont. 

The rest of the country around High Island is almost 
level and much of the surface during a wet time is cov- 
ered with water, yet from what I could see and learn it 
was a nne range for cattle and thousands could be seen 
feeding over the surrounding country. 

I think this will be one of the last ranges or ranch 
countries to be used for other purposes than raising cat- 
tle, from the fact that most of the land is too flat to raise 
a crop of any kind on, even rice. 

About fifteen miles away is the large ranch of Mr. 
White, one of the wealthiest cow men of Texas, but I 
was unable to spare the time to visit his ranch. 

There is one thing which torments and aggravates the 
new-comer in this section and that is the mosquitoes, 
which swarm at times by the multiplied thousands, and 
they annoy the stock very much, while the people use 
screen doors and windows or keep smokes in their houses 
all day, but this only at times. 

Along the shores of the Gulf thousands of beautiful 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 135 

sea shells are found, and many are gathered and shipped 
away, while the people have their yards beautifully dec- 
orated with them and should any of you who read these 
lines ever visit High Island I think you will see things 
that will linger long in memory. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE GALVESTON STORM OF SEPTEMBER 8, IQOO. 

There are but few readers who have not read more or 
less about the awful Galveston storm of 1900, but there 
is yet a great deal untold. 

I became pastor of the only Baptist Church on Bolivar 
Peninsula in the spring of 1898 and served the church 
until the storm — nearly three years. 

Our church was a large, well finished frame building 
constructed of best Louisiana pine. 

I had about ten days before the storm closed a meet- 
ing of five days at Patten Beach, about ten miles from 
our church, where some of our members lived, and came 
home to rest a few days, and was to return and hold a 
meeting of days with the church at Port Bolivar, but I 
took a very high fever and was not able to go on the 
day appointed for the meeting, so sent a telegram to 
Brother Crenshaw, our clerk, saying I would be com- 
pelled to ask the church to postpone the meeting until 
next month on account of sickness. 

Nothing but the fever kept me from going on to hold 
the meeting and I feel that God afflicted me to keep me 
out of the storm or from going into such a place, as I 
would in all probability have been drowned. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 137 

If I am right in my decision that God himself kept me 
out of the bad part of the storm, you might say, "Why 
would God keep one so small as you out of its central 
force, when ten thousand were drowned in and near Gal- 
veston?" My only answer is that He spared me for 
work He wanted me to perform and when this work is 
accomplished I may be finally in some great catastrophe 
equal to the Galveston storm. God's ways are past find- 
ing out. 

Our large church was blown or washed down and one- 
half was carried into Galveston Bay and landed on the 
beach at Cedar Bayou, about sixty miles away. About 
thirty-five of my congregation were drowned and those 
who were left were made paupers, as far as wealth was 
concerned. 

One family had all their horses, cattle, chickens and 
their dwelling and contents washed away, they them- 
selves being still alive but without a change of raiment 
left. . 

Another family who owned about twelve hundred 
head of cattle, when the storm was over only seventy- 
five head remained, while whole families near, with 
houses, cattle, and all, were gone. 

The new fort with the new barracks were about two 
miles from our church. There were only about fifteen 



138 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

soldiers stationed there at that time and only one soldier 
lived through that awful night. These soldiers attended 
our services and I felt a great interest in their spiritual 
welfare. 

The one who did survive said that while he was stand- 
ing on the porch of one of the houses, watching the ele- 
ments in their fury, he saw a great wave coming, bear- 
ing all before it. Soon there was no barracks standing 
and he found himself among a lot of wild steers that 
were washed from a pasture near by, and he mounted 
one of them and clung to him. This great wave rolled 
across the peninsula to the bay, a distance of about three 
miles, but the soldier still held on to the steer, until some- 
where in the bay the steer ceased to exert himself and 
he had to leave him to keep from drowning. He soon 
caught a large log and rode it until his feet touched land 
when he stood up. 

He had ridden the steer and log if in a straight line 
nearly fifteen miles. He was found the next day by the 
rescuers without clothes and considerably bruised. 

I was living near Hockley at the time of the storm 
and there were only three or four houses left standing and 
all was confusion and distress. As soon as I could, I 
went down to Port Bolivar. As I had to go to Galves- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 139 

ton and take the ferry boat, I had time to walk around 
and view the marks of the storm. 

It is true, the dead were all buried and much had been 
done towards cleaning and opening streets, yet there 
were large houses in the middle of the streets, and some 
parts where once stood many fine homes was now cov- 
ered with surging waves. 

Most all the ladies T met while in the city that day 
were dressed in mourning. I saw some who were, like 
myself, looking at that desolate part of the city and 
stopped now and then to tell of the fine house that stood 
at such a place before the storm. I saw some of the 
ladies weeping for their departed loved ones. 

Whenever that day I would find some member of our 
church and they would tell about this brother or that sis- 
ter or their children getting drowned, they would begin 
to weep and I could not help weeping. That day I can 
never forget, because I think T shed more tears than any 
day of my life. 

When I reached Port Bolivar everything was so 
changed — houses gone, the railroad washed away, and 
only a few people still living there. The other two 
churches I was serving as pastor were also ruined and 
the most of the members moved away from the coast 
region to North Texas, while some went to other States 



140 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

The railroads furnished free transportation for all who 
wanted to leave and many did move away. Those who 
did remain were without means to rebuild their homes at 
once, but by degrees they repaired them and today are 
very well fixed again, but as all the churches expected to 
pay me my salary in the fall of the year they had noth- 
ing to pay with and I was left by the storm without any- 
thing to live on. Money was sent from all parts of the 
nation to relieve the distressed ones and I, with thou- 
sands of others, had my immediate needs supplied. Mul- 
tiplied hundreds were left without garments to wear un- 
til supplied with clothing by the rescuing parties and re- 
lief committees. Churches in all the small towns were 
blown to pieces and nearly every preacher left the coun- 
try. I trust I shall never witness such another awful 
time. I could but feel for months afterwards but what 
I was at some funeral, for such a pall of gloom had set- 
tled over me I felt that I could not live to wear it off. 



CHAPTER XV. 

BACK INTO THE SADDLE ON TEXAS COW RANCH. 

In the chapter just read I stated that I was left by the 
Galveston storm without any means to live upon, I had 
been that way before, but I never had been in a section 
where no one was able to help their preacher. 

The brethren who did remain where I had been serv- 
ing churches before the storm wrote, "Brother Ander- 
son, we would be glad to have you come and preach, but 
we can not even pay your railroad fare." Many such 
letters were received by me the year after the storm. 

"Now, what must I do? I have a wife and eight 
children to support." I moved near the little town of 
Waller in November after the storm in September. 

When a boy on the range I _ learned from Mexicans 
to make girths out of hair ; also fancy bridles of the same 
material, so I went to work at this trade and we — my- 
self and little boys — could make about $10 worth a day, 
minus the cost of material used. We began to see a 
way to keep the hungry wolf from the door. Many peo- 
ple had left the country and many houses were vacant 
and farms laying out, so rent was low. I made a small 
crop and sold over $200 worth of girths the year after 
the storm, 1901. 



142 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

I was also employed to buy horses and mules for the 
English government, for the Boer war was then rag- 
ing. I also aided in buying cattle, and, having the con- 
fidence of good stockmen, I was hired to take fat cattle 
to market and take trainloads to the Indian Territory. 
I was paid from $5 to $7.50 per day on the trips. 

You know the Savior preached to one woman at the 
well who afterwards lead the whole city to Christ (John 
4: 29), so I often preached to the other cow men while 
on the run to market with fat cattle or carrying train- 
loads to the Territory. On one occasion a wealthy gen- 
tleman was on the train and someone drew out his flask 
of "Bourbon drops." I said, "No, sir." 

I preached them such a temperance sermon that before 
we parted he invited me to come to his city and preach 
a week and he would pay all expenses of the trip, but I 
could not change my arrangements. This gentleman 
lived near Denison, Texas. 

When I was out buying cattle those who had heard of 
me would ask me to preach, which I always did if pos- 
sible. I would preach every night and buy cattle during 
the day and when Sunday came all work stopped — stock 
in pastures — and I would preach at 11 a. m. and night. 

I was at Evergreen in San Jacinto County on one of 
those cattle buying trips when Brother B. F. Ellis, who 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 143 

at that time lived there, said to me, "You are a preacher, 
I hear; is it true?" 

"I have that title at home." 

"Will you preach for us tomorrow?" 

"If you will get me a congregation." 

So it was told over the phone and around on all sides, 
"the cow man is going to preach tomorrow; come and 
hear him. We don't know anything about him, but 
come and hear him." And they did come. 

A young gentleman wrote to a young lady where I 
was stopping to know "if he could have the pleasure of 
escorting her to hear the cowboy preach." 

I went to church knowing only a few men I had met 
in the last few days before preaching. I told the audi- 
ence I could tell the girls who the boys loved and boys 
who would like some good girl to love them by the way 
they listened, because the girl who did not behave at 
church was not fit to make a boy of good sense a suit- 
able wife, and the boy who could not act right at church 
would not support a wife if he could get one. I had 
the best of attention. Quite a number of ladies and 
gentlemen came up and were introduced to me after the 
sermon and wanted me to preach again. 

Such work as that preaching while out driving cattle 
or buying cattle caused the strangers to call me the "cow- 



144 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

boy preacher," but the first time I was ever called the 
"cowboy preacher" was at the home of my uncle. Ed An- 
derson, near Camden, Ark. 

A few days after preaching at Evergreen, we went 
down to Pelican on Santa Fe railroad in Tarkington 
Prairie. Here quite a number of men brought cattle to 
the herd we had now together. Mr. W. had paid them 
ior their cattle and dinner was ready. 

These men we invited to dinner with us, as we had a 
good cook and plenty to eat. They said, "We will go 
home for dinner ; we do not want to impose on you ; you 
are out here in camp." 

"Come, we have a wagon load of grub; come on." 
So we all soon sat down to a real fine dinner, for the 
boys had driven the cattle to a tank to water, which the 
cattle had made very muddy so the fish arose to the top, 
and they had caught fifty pounds of fine trout. 

All of our crowd took off their hats and waited for 
me to return "thanks to the bountiful Giver of all good." 
The invited guests seemed thunderstruck by this turn in 
affairs, but we all joined to make everyone feel wel- 
come. 

Before leaving the crowd, one of these men remarked 
in hearing of some of the boys: "Don't this beat any 
set of cow men you ever saw — one will cuss and the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 145 

other one will pray before they eat, while all lift their 
hats during the short prayer." By this little act at the 
table before eating, I was advertised over the prairie as 
the "cowboy preacher." 

One or two other incidents of that trip I will relate 
to show that it is not all sport to drive cattle in dry, hot 
weather. Early next morning we left Pelican, but dur- 
ing the day we stopped our herd to receive more cattle 
we had bought, and that night penned our cattle at Mr. 
Nick Jackson's. From the moves the cattle made that 
evening we were afraid that they would stampede that 
night. We all slept near the pen, but left Mr. Will Ivy 
to sit up and watch the herd until a certain hour, when 
another man was to relieve him. Near midnight they 
broke and Will called to us; in five minutes we were 
running around the pen singing any song we could think 
of. The pen was in the corner of his field of fine corn 
and cotton and should our cattle ruin this crop it would 
take all the profits for a year or two to settle with Jack- 
son, but while the cattle knocked all middle fences out 
of the pens we were around in such a way that while 
one string of fence next the crops was laid low only a 
few head got into the corn and we surrounded and drove 
them back — this was luck indeed. Now all hands were 

10— a 



146 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

required to walk around and sing until daylight. Some 
of our crowd smoked cigarettes and the pipe, but the 
boss said, "Boys, don't forget yourselves and strike a 
match around the pen." 

These cattle were raised gentle by small farmers so 
there was no danger of them fighting any of us, but if 
one match had been struck they would have broke the 
pen and we would have never been able to get them 
again, because none of them had our brand on them. 

We were all glad when the sun rose next morning. 
The boss said to me, "Parson, when I send you ahead to 
get a pen don't get one joined to a farm. You ride up 
and see Mr. Jackson and ask him how much damage 
we are due him. If you think his bill is just, pay it; 
if you think it is unreasonable let me know and we will 
see what can be done. We do really regret our cattle 
getting into the farm." 

I galloped to the house and Mr. Jackson said, "How 
many did you lose last night?" He was a cow man him- 
self and knew what happened generally when the cattle 
stampeded at night. 

"We did not lose a single animal; we were lucky in- 
deed, and I am here to see how much cash we owe you 
for damages to your corn." 



From the Plains to the Pulpit 147 

"Not on^ cent. I saw where a small bunch ran through 
the corn, but there was not two dozen stalks broken 
down. No, sir, no damage." 

We were real proud and glad to know the damage was 
so light. 

The next night we drove our herd five miles after 
dark, guided only by stars, to reach Mr. Pruit's pen near 
Dayton. 

We ate supper about 12 o'clock that night, and all 
hands were very tired, but we must sit up with the cattle ; 
they rested, too, but made a break every night afterward 
until we reached home. 

The day after we left Pruit's we swam across the 
Trinity and then came the "tug of war." 

The September storm had blown down almost every 
large tree. 

I was to take the road ahead and try not to let a sin- 
gle one get away, while the boss was to keep up the 
rear. 

When we had traveled four or five miles from the 
river and struck a little glade, captain came around and 
said to me, "Parson, won't you take the rear and relieve 
me, because my horse has jumped ten thousand logs since 
we left the river." 

"I certainly will," I replied. I saw he was like my- 



148 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

self — had rather drive cattle on the prairie than the tim- 
ber. His face was scratched, his hands were bloody and 
his clothes torn until he had to go to his valise at noon 
for others; but we reached open ground at last, and he 
counted the cattle and we still had our number of nearly 
seven hundred. He rode around and smiled at the boys 
and said, "I have not a sorry hand in my crowd.' ' With 
many a cow man this would have been the time to have 
sent to the grub wagon for a quart of rock and rye. but 
none of that was drank in this crowd, but the boss felt he 
was lucky in not losing a single animal while coming 
through the bottom. He looked over the herd and rode 
back to me and said, "Parson, I feel like killing the fat- 
ted calf, but we have none here; but yonder is a bunch 
of fat goats. Can't you ride out to the owner and buy 
a good one for dinner, for we are going to rest an hour 
or two, for there is no pen we can reach tonight." I 
soon found the owner and bought of him the pick of the 
flock, and our cook made haste to get dinner. 

That night we herded our cattle on the open prairie. 

The next day the boss told me to take the saddle 
horses on ahead and find water and report to him. I 
was soon on a little creek where there were about three 
barrels of water in a little hole. The now crazy horses 
jumped down the high banks and fell over one another 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 149 

in getting to this little pool of water, which they made 
so muddy in half a minute that it was not fit for any 
horse to drink. I, with difficulty, drove them on for two 
miles further where there w T as plenty of the best kind of 
clear water. I was so wearied that when I did get the 
horses away from the pool of muddy water I forgot to 
send word back to the boss, who was bringing the cat- 
tle behind me. This blunder of mine came near proving 
a serious loss, for when the famished cattle scented the 
water they made a run for it and piled over one another 
but they did not kill a one. It was a wonder that fifteen 
or twenty were not killed. It took three hours to get 
them away and drive them four hundred yards. When 
I got the horses to water I left them with one man to 
watch and hurried back to help on with the cattle. As 
I rode up I saw every horse covered with foam and every 
rider was tired and almost dead for water. 

"Now, you played it; why didn't you send a runner 
back to tell me of that little mud hole of water. Why, 
we have almost killed every horse, and it is a wonder we 
did not kill a hundred head of cattle/' 

I regretted my bad blunder and took the rebuke as my 
just due, but I here state that I have made mistakes all 
along life's journey, but this one was a bad one indeed. 

While out on one of these trips buying cattle, I drove 



150 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

up to a nice home in Montgomery County about 1 p. m. 
The gentleman met me at the gate. I told him my name 
and my business in calling. He asked me: "Are you 
the Preacher Anderson, the mule-selling Anderson, the 
steer-buying Anderson ?" 

"Yes, sir." 

He turned to his wife who was standing on the gallery 
and said, "Vic, here is a hungry preacher; if you have 
any meat skins and other scraps put them on the table." 
Then turning to me he said, "Get out, I would be glad 
to sell ;^ou my steers." My team was soon in the stable 
and well fed. I said to him, "You may feed me on the 
scraps, but I am going to feed my horses good." His 
wife was sorry he spoke so rough to a stranger and apol- 
ogized to me. I told her I knew a bad case when I saw 
it and I had been away from home before. 

We were soon looking at the steers and when the 
steers were counted out to us, we soon drove away, 
while he thought "what shall 1 buy with two thousand — 
it is more money than I have had at one time in all my 
life." 

He told his neighbors that Anderson knew a steer and 
could sell mules and horses, but didn't think he was much 
of a preacher. 

He was right. We judge a man by the way we see 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 151 

him, while God looks at the heart and knows all our 
sorrows and desires. 

In the early part of 1903 I made a trade with a good 
friend to run his ranch, or rather should say, to work 
under his orders and be boss in his absence. There was 
over ten thousand acres in pasture and near 200 acres 
in cultivation, the most of which was worked by tenants 
on shares. We branded nearly one thousand calves 
and sold about $25,000 worth of steers, $2,000 worth 
of mules and horses each of the two years I was on 
this ranch, near Hockley, the home of my boyhood. 
When we hired hands to help us in the round-up I 
told each of those employed that I was to do all the 
cursing while they were working for us. There was 
not a bottle of whiskey no the ranch while I was there 
that I saw or even heard of. If strangers came out 
to buy stock of any kind and began to curse I would 
tell them just to wait until they got outside of the front 
gate one mile from the pens to do their cursing, . 

When we made that trade for me to move to the ranch 
there were two things I was not to do. First, I was not 
to work on Sunday unless it was a case of necessity to 
relieve suffering stock, or where we had no control over 
the circumstances. Second, I was not to ride any horse 
of which I was afraid would buck too much. So I was 



152 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

permitted to select my own mount of six good horses 
out of forty cow ponies. While two of my horses 
did a little bucking, I never left the saddle, yet I saw 
my three oldest boys thrown off several times, a thing 
no bucking horse ever did to their father. 

I did put in two hard days' work on Sunday while on 
the ranch. The first day we worked on Sunday the boss 
was on the open range Saturday and found to his amaze- 
ment that the cattle had emptied every tank outside the 
pasture. The cattle were just walking up and down the 
fence, lowing and trying to get inside, where there was 
water enough for 10,000 head, while there were not 
over 2,000 head of our cattle in this famished condition. 
The owner saw the condition about sundown on that 
Saturday evening. He rode up to the ranch and told 
me of the condition on the open range — cattle crazy for 
water and bogging and dying - in the mud. He said, "I 
know our agreement, but I think this is a case of the 'ox 
in the ditch.' I would rather have you and your boys than 
any hands I might get tonight about town, but if you 
feel that it will be wrong for you and the boys to aid 
me tomorrow I will do the best I can without you, but 
my cattle must have water." I replied: "In this case 
I think my Savior, if he were here in person to speak, 
would say: Tut those cattle where they can get to 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 153 

water.' So I will do all I can in this relief work." With 
a smile playing over his face, he drew a tight rein to hurry 
home to tell his lovely young wife and sweet little girl. 
"I will not take dinner with you and our Houston friends 
tomorrow." As he rode away in a gallop he said, "Get 
down there early — leave ' Sundown' (a noted horse) in 
the lot for me." 

At daylight next morning, one of my sons on a good 
horse was running a bunch of fat cow ponies to the cor- 
ral. Our saddles were soon on our best horses and we 
were "flying" towards the open range. "We will be 
here for dinner about 4 or 5 o'clock," I said to my wife. 
We had started the cattle to a central point when the 
boss rode up on his foaming favorite, ready to cut out 
the "strays" (cattle belonging to others) ; about 3 p. m. 
this was over and the large gate opened and then began 
a race ?mong the cattle to see which should reach the 
water first, while we would have given a five-dollar bill 
for all the cool water we and our poor tired horses could 
drink. We soon let our horses drink the hot tank water, 
then began a weary return to the ranch house, where we 
could get plenty of the best water in all South Texas. 
The boys felt like eating dinner by this time. 

On the other Sunday we all had to work was a time 
the boss had sold to a Cuban buyer six or eight hundred 



154 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

steers with the understanding or contract, that he would 
load the steers out any day he called for them. So on 
a certain Saturday night, the cattle-ship plying between 
Galveston and Cuba arrived in port at Galveston and 
announced ready to load. A telegram came saying, "I 
have ordered cars. Load steers tomorrow. Rush." So 
we loaded them out on Sunday. We could not control. 

In the large tanks on this ranch was a variety of nice 
fish and plenty of large frogs (such as you pay 25 cents 
and more for the hind quarters at the fashionable eating 
houses) the year round, while there were thousands of 
wild ducks and geese in winter, so our table was sup- 
plied with these good things in addition to good fresh 
beef, if we could just spare a little time. 

I never did quit preaching when I had a chance, but 
I did not serve any church as pastor until four years 
after the storm. 

I bought hundreds of horses on contract for a Cuban 
dealer ; also cattle for Cuba. I went as far as Galveston 
with them, but when they were loaded on the ships and 
took their leave for Cuba, instead of following that herd 
further, "I let 'em go" and returned to the ranch. By 
returning to the saddle I was able to get up a little fin- 
ancially. 

I am glad I was trained to work when a boy, and I 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 155 

am proud I can turn my hands to any work on the 
ranch or farm. There is many a preacher in Texas who 
must make the larger part of their living working at a 
trade during the week, or all week, until Saturday, on 
the farm and then riding from five to twenty miles and 
preaching on Sundays. Many of that class will shine 
with God's redeemed in the resurrection morning, when 
Jesus comes again — to gather His jewels. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

SHIPPING CATTLE TO MARKET. 

As stated in previous chapters, beeves were driven 
up the trail to Kansas City and then shipped by rail to 
St. Louis and Chicago or driven to Shreveport, Louis- 
iana, and then shipped by boat to New Orleans, but since 
we have so many railroads and the entire country fenced 
up, cattle are now shipped from one range to another, or 
shipped to market by rail, and, as I was well known to 
many shippers, I have been employed to take from two 
cars to an entire trainload of cattle to the Indian Ter- 
ritory and to market. There is more or less hard and 
dangerous work attached to this shipping business, and 
there is a great difference in the cattle shipped. 

One trip I took a lot of large steers, which had been 
fattened on cotton seed meal and hulls. Quite a number 
of these steers had gone blind, as steers often do that 
are fattened on meal and hulls, and some of them would 
get down in the cars, and it was hard indeed to get 
these blind ones up, and it would require me to get into 
the cars among the steers to work with them, and then 
the train would be making good time and the cattle would 
be jolted around in such a manner that when you had 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 157 

accomplished your work and gotten out of the car you 
did not want to repeat this work again. When we left 
Denisoa, Texas, for St. Louis we had nothing but beef 
cattle for market, and our train had the right of way 
over all trains except the fast mail train. 

There were more beeves on the way to market than 
could be hauled in two trains, so the train was made 
into three sections, or, plainly speaking, three different 
trains run on the same schedule, and consequently were 
always near each other, and when in turning the curves 
around the mountains and hills in the Territory and 
Missouri, the engineers would blow the whistles often to 
keep from running into one another. When we reached 
Franklin Junction, Missouri, there were a number of 
cattle that went on to Chicago, while a number of us 
turned down the river for St. Louis. There were two 
negroes on our train, and as most of us had been on 
watch looking after the cattle the night before and were 
all worn out we raised a purse to hire these negroes to 
watch the cattle that night, which they had agreed to 
do, provided we would pay them for the extra work of 
watching the entire train. The trade was made with 
them about sundown, and we started down the Missis- 
sippi river a little later. These negroes were out on the 
cars when they looked down and saw the river far below 



158 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

them on one side, while the mountain bluff was high 
above on the other side, and were badly frightened and 
hastened into the caboose where we were and lay down 
in the middle of the car and said, "We will give you 
back your money, because we can't stand such dangerous 
work as that in this kind of country," and further de- 
clared their boss' cattle would have to take care of them- 
selves that night, and we could never persuade them to 
leave the caboose again until daylight next morning. 
They were so afraid they did not sleep that night. 

We reached St. Louis early in the morning and our 
cattle were taken in charge by the commission companies 
to whom they were consigned. I spent the day in look- 
ing at the sights of the city, after spending several hours 
watching the buyers and salesmen make some large deals. 
Here at the pens my cattle attracted more attention than 
any others in the train, because I had a numbei of the 
large Brahma steers, with a large hump on their should- 
ers, and many gathered around to see and watch. These 
Brahma cattle are from an imported male from India, 
the sacred cattle of that country. This male was 
imported from that country at a cost of over five 
thousand dollars, and thousands of his off-spring can 
be found in the coast counties of Texas today. I went 
into the large packing houses. I saw them killing the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 159 

beeves, and watched as they rolled the dressed beef into 
the cold storage rooms. I also saw them killing hogs 
and scalding them by machinery. After they were 
knocked in the head they were dragged up on one side 
of a wall squealing and soon come down on the other 
side with the hair off. 

The horse and mule exchange or rather the place 
where they were selling them I found to be one of the 
most exciting places I visited that day. 

I rode over much of the city on the street cars, but 
when night came I had seen but a small portion of that 
which was interesting to view. 

I also took a number of trips with trainloads of beeves 
to the Indian Territory, where they were turned into 
large pastures until they were fat and ready to go to 
market. On one of these trips, when I reached my des- 
tination, near Wagoner, and unloaded, the gentleman 
who was there to receive the steers, after all were out of 
the cars, said to me, "Mr. Anderson, I can say for you 
what I can not say for any other man who has unloaded 
cattle here in quite a while. Others usually have from 
five to twenty dead ones in the train while yours are 
all up, which goes to prove to me that you have attended 
to your business on your route up here." I replied that 



160 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

I always tried to do my duty and I was also paid about 
double what many men could be hired for. 

I have also been to New Orleans quite a number of 
times with fat market cattle. The country along the en- 
tire route up to St. Louis is high and rolling, while the 
trip to New Orleans is through a level, flat country, with 
many lakes and swamps along the entire route. In go- 
ing to St. Louis you go through a country where the 
people plant much wheat, oats and corn, while on the 
route to New Orleans you pass through a country where 
they raise a great deal of rice and sugar cane and some 
cotton, but no farmer seems to raise one-third enough 
corn for his own use. At St. Louis and Kansas City 
your beeves are unloaded from the car into the sale pens ; 
at New Orleans they are unloaded from the cars on this 
side of the river, then loaded onto a boat and carried to 
the commission pens on the other side of the great 
"Father of Waters/' as the Mississippi is so often called. 
Here the man from the plains finds much to interest 
him. As you go up to the city from the stock landing, 
you pass one of Uncle Sam's posts, where you see the 
soldiers on parade, or the lone sentinel on duty, and per- 
haps you may also see one of the soldiers under guard 
doing extra duty because he had disobeyed some order. 
On reaching Canal Street, the center of the city that 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 161 

General Jackson so nobly defended in years long ago, is 
the busiest place one will find in all the Southern States. 
If you wish to go to any part of the city you will find 
a car on Canal Street to take you to that part of the 
city. All the large theaters are located near Canal, 
which is the widest street in the city. Here you can see 
ships unloading and loading for the various ports of the 
world, while near these large ships may be seen rover 
steamers loading or unloading, which run between New 
Orleans and cities along the great river. I visited the 
United States mint, located here, and watched them make 
silver dollars and smaller change. This is all done with 
the aid of heavy machinery. When running they cut 
out dollars as fast as one could count, but yet they have 
to pass through other hands and processes and machines 
before they were ready to be issued. Every dollar, half 
or quarter, as well as dimes and nickels, must weigh ex- 
act amount and be free from all imperfections before it 
was counted as money and stored away in the great 
vaults, ready for call. One large room, said the gentle- 
man who was showing us around and explaining, ' 'con- 
tains eighteen million dollars of new money that never 
had been used." I will not try to mention the many 
things of interest to visitors, but the great French mar- 



1 62 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

ket is one place where more things to eat can be found 
than any place I ever saw. A Texas cow man will wan- 
der from place to place after his business has been at- 
tended to until he is tired of sight-seeing and go to his 
room to rest for the night or to the depot to take the 
train back to his beloved quiet home on the beautiful 
prairies of Texas. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

A WESTERN TRIP. 

On the 4th of July, 1907, I took the westbound 
Southern Pacific train at Houston to aid in a meeting 
at Leaky, Edwards County. Passing rapidly through 
Sugarland on the Brazos and many thriving towns along 
this road, and viewing the fine homes of the many pros- 
perous farmers, large pastures and much fine stock, late 
in the afternoon reached the historic town of San An- 
tonio ; but I am not to now stop to visit the many places 
of interest, but soon we are rolling on towards the set- 
ting sun. This is truly the Sunset Route. From New 
Orleans to the Golden Gate you ride towards sunset. 
The further west you go the more magnificent the scen- 
ery. With grip in hand, when the porter called out Sabi- 
nal, I left the train to find a hotel to rest the remainder of 
that beautiful night, and at sunrise next morning I took 
the hack to Leaky, forty-one miles back in the moun- 
tains of Edwards County. I was soon driving over 
land very rich. On either side of the road were nice 
fields of cotton and corn, while here and there were pas- 
tures of various sizes, in which could be seen fine fat 
stock. When reaching the fifteen-mile post from Sabi- 



164 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

nal we then were in the brakes — hills covered with rocks 
and small brush. Here we traveled for several miles 
through Judge Flores' pasture, which extended ten or 
fifteen miles either way. At noon we stopped at Mr. 
Myer's to change horses and rest awhile. Mr. Myer's 
house stands near the mountain. While the driver was 
changing horses I asked for permission to inspect his 
stock and pens. "Help yourself." I soon found out he 
had only good stock and well fixed to handle it. After 
a nice dinner we hurried off, to reach Camp Hukill about 
4 p. m., but as we increased the distance from Mr. 
Myer's home the mountains stood on each side of the 
road, increased in size and height ; the scenery was grand 
and inspiring while we crossed four or five times the clear, 
beautiful stream of Rio Frio river. All along stood nice 
homes with nice little farms, where crops grew on rich 
soil. Con-Can was one postofnce where the mountaineers 
received their daily mail, while Rio Frio, a nice little vil- 
lage, was another office. At this place I saw my first irri- 
gated farm. The crop was fine corn, estimated at fifty 
Dushels of corn per acre. When we reached the big tent 1 
was soon introduced to Rev. C. B. Hukill, an aged minis- 
ter who has been a great power for good on the frontier of 
Texas almost all his life. To write out his life it would 
be to reproduce the toils and exploits of Rev. Z. A. Mor- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 165 

rell. Rev. J. W. Daniel, of Elgin, was here to lead 
the meeting. The lovely young ladies were there to lead 
the music. They were all sisters whose homes were in 
Eagle Pass — Misses Mamie, Emma and Florence Groves 
— they are fine musicians. Brother Hukill is blessed with 
a most excellent companion. Brother Daniel is a fine 
scriptural preacher and did fine preaching. The church 
was greatly revived, but there was not the number con- 
verted while I was there I hoped to see. I never saw 
as many young men and ladies under a tent unsaved as 
gathered under that tent to listen to Brother Daniel's 
preaching. 

"Where did all the people come from/' I asked various 
ones. 

"From up and down this canyon," was the uniform 
reply. There I was at the tent, and large mountains on 
either side, but Mr. J. H. Davis took me for a little drive 
in his buggy, and at every turn around the mountains he 
would show me a home or tell me how many lived a little 
further around. I went to a saw mill which was run by 
water power. Mr. Fulgeum, the owner, told me it was 
the cheapest power in the West, but while it was a valu- 
able piece of property in the mountains to saw the cedar, 
cypress and walnut, it was only a vest-pocket affair com- 
pared to the saw mills of East Texas and Louisiana. 



1 66 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

I borrowed a horse and went up to the great Kaolin 
mines, five miles from Leaky. Young Mr. Crenshaw 
was my guide — a pleasant young man who was mounted 
on a horse which was accustomed to climbing the moun- 
tains. We wound around the mountain sides and finally 
reached the summit. I thought, "well, we are here 
nearer the clouds than I have ever been before." I tried 
to see all there was to see about these mines. Two 
large shafts were there where the deeper they went the 
larger the veins of Kaolin were. Forty thousand tons 
have been taken out, some of which have been shipped 
to Paris, France, some to New York, and all claim the 
mines to be the finest in the world as to quality and 
greatest in quantity. There are three mountains of this 
kaolin undeveloped yet. There has been a railroad sur- 
veyed to it. They told me that these mines were worth 
$40,000,000. I saw dishes made from this kaolin and 
they were pretty. As we were returning we met my 
friend Mr. Melvin Cavender and his father who, like 
myself, wanted to see the kaolin, so I returned with them 
and spent another hour viewing the beautiful shades of 
kaolin. 

On my return to the meeting I stopped and preached 
in the noted mountain city of Leaky. I met many of 
her polite, energetic and enterprising citizens, and if 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 167 

Brother W. D. Uphaw, of Atlanta, Ga., had been with 
me he would have fallen in love with the charming young 
ladies of this quiet mountain town. Mr. Weston has a 
store that would do credit to many a railroad town. 
Mr. Willingham's store is also good. I did not have 
the time to visit the other stores of the town. 

I remained eight days at the big tent meeting, and 
bidding adieu to the many warm friends, with a pressing 
invitation to return next year and preach for them, Rev. 
J. B. Hiler carried me over the mountain and through 
Dry Frio Valley to Exile to preach. While Bro. Hiler 
owned a new, strong buggy and drove a nice match team, 
we had a hard time climbing the mountain, and then when 
we did start down on the other side I would tie a rope to 
the buggy; and let it down by degrees. The team could not 
hold it back in places. When we reached the valley of 
Dry Frio I did not care to retrace my journey. We were 
soon at the pleasant home of Brother Mark P. Gibson, 
who was engineer on Southern Pacific railroad for eigh- 
teen years, but now is raising Angora goats out in the 
mountains of Uvalde County. He has good, pure, moun- 
tain water to drink, and had nice vegetables out of his 
sub-irrigated garden. I said to him, "Brother Gibson, 
how do you manage to live out in the isolated mountain 
home, when you were raised in the stir of San Antonio 



1 68 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

and ran an engine from there to El Paso for eighteen 
years ?" 

"Why, there is more real joy here in one year than 
in ten years in the city, and besides, there is more money 
for my wife and children in a goat ranch, five to one, 
than sitting on the engine/' 

His wife is a sweet spirited Christian lady of culture 
and refinement that would grace any parlor in our cities, 
while Brother Gibson's mother is and has been for years 
one of the pillars in the Baptist Church in San Antonio. 
Here was also a noble Christian young lady, Miss Willie 
Duree, from El Paso, who joined to welcome me to 
their mountain home. 

"We are so glad, Brother Anderson, you have come to 
preach for our little church." 

When we reached the schoolhouse that night there 
was a good crowd to hear me preach. Brother Hiler 
had said to me, "You must do all the preaching." 

The next night the audience was larger, and continued 
to increase until the house would not hold the people. 
Some families drove their buggies near the windows, 
others in front of the door; the men gave their seats to 
the girls and ladies and amid all this crowd, there was 
not a whisper or the least thing in the way of disturbance. 

When I have been far away in other States, and hear- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 169 

ing people expressing their opinions about how people 
behave in Texas (I have been in Missouri, Arkansas 
and Louisiana, and preached in many towns and cities in 
Texas) but nowhere have I ever had better order than 
at Exile. Above the little preacher God was smiling on 
the scene, while men and women lifted their hearts to God 
in prayer. 

There were only nine members in this little church, 
but fifteen were added to it during this little meeting. 
One aged man who had lived on the frontier all his life 
and had not been to church in forty years came to hear 
me preach and to see me baptize the happy converts. 
Another one had not heard a sermon in twenty-seven 
years. The people remunerated we well and all they 
did in a financial way seemed to come as freely as the 
wind blows or the sun shines. Here a thing was done 
to me that I never had done before. A brother who 
had contributed as much as anyone, I think, offered me 
his check, signed by himself, and told me to take it and 
fill it out for whatever amount I wanted them to pay, 
or for any amount I needed. This I refused tc take. 

I know the name Exile is connected all through history 
as a place where notorious persons were kept, or those 
exiled or banished into exile must remain in a bad place 
or under unpleasant circumstances the remainder of their 



170 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

lives, but the honest student of history knows that many 
of the true and good were banished or exiled for some 
imaginary wrong that they had done or might do, but 
these Exiles are good, true, free and happy, prosperous 
people. These Exiles had a phone in each home. 

Most all the people in this section are raising Angora 
goats, which live well the year round on the mountain 
brush. They shear their goats twice each year. It is 
true that goats are most profitable, yet they raise hogs 
and cattle, but only a few horses. 

Mr. John A. Cummins not only has over a thousand 
goats, but has several hundred head of cattle. Uncle 
John, as he is familiarly called by his neighbors, is a 
typical Western man who is surrounded with plenty. 
He was for two years one of the range bosses on Capt. 
M. Kennedy's great ranch in Nueces County in the 70's. 

When he was on his LaRales ranch, Capt. Kennedy 
branded each year between 35,000 and 40,000 calves and 
between 6,000 and 7,000 colts, besides he owned thou- 
sands of sheep. From the first of April to December 
the 15th he employed about eighty hands on his ranch 
to work his cattle and always kept from 800 to 1,000 
cow ponies. Uncle John took up his abode in Exile in 
1880. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 171 

A friend asked, "Did you see Mr. R. H. Cummins at 
church today?" I replied that I saw all who were there 
but I did not know Mr. Cummins. 

"Brother Anderson, about fourteen years ago he was 
in some kind of trouble with someone and he in an hour 
of great danger ran his horse full speed across the Pecos 
river on that high bridge on the Southern Pacific rail- 
road." 

"Why, that bridge is three hundred feet high and is 
not a wagon bridge but is only a railroad bridge. I am 
told." I know these Western cow men will run their 
cow ponies where many would not dare to ride a horse, 
but to think a man would run his horse full drive over 
this railroad bridge, I could hardly think was true. 

I sought Mr. Cummins and inquired of him if this was 
true. 

"Yes, sir ; I ran my horse on the foot path by the side 
of the railroad." Mr. Cummins is now an honored citi- 
zen, surrounded with the comforts of this life. 

After spending ten days among the Exiles, I went to 
spend a day or two with Rev. Gooding in a meeting five 
miles from Sabinal, in a rich farming section of Uvalde 
County. Here I was pressed to remain longer. I did 
stay four days. This was one deep soul-stirring meet- 
ing. Twenty-four had joined when I left. 



172 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

wSabinal is a growing town with many new brick build- 
ings and fine residences. 

Uvalde County is one of the great honey counties of 
the West. Uvalde, the county seat, is also improving 
fast. The county has no saloons. 

I returned to Exile and preached ten days there three 
weeks after the first meeting and baptized forty-four at 
one time, and Uncle Dab Boales, who had spent all his 
life on the frontier, united with the church and was bap- 
tized. He was eighty-five years old. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

WHAT I OWE. 

"Owe no man anything, but to love one another." 
(Rom. 13: 8.) 

What I owe, is a question that has often perplexed 
me and caused me to study the debt question in its vari- 
ous relations to other subjects and conditions in life, 
from kings and monarchs and rulers to the citizen in 
his retired and even his obscure home. Another cause 
in studying the debt question is the oft-repeated remark 
of men who are not Christions ; when approached on the 
subject of religion and church membership you are met 
with the answer: "I pay my honest debts and am, I 
think, as good, if not a good deal better, than the ma- 
jority of church members. " 

I have seen the day I could not pay 10 cents on the 
dollar of what was then due, but I have never yet seen 
the day that I wished or desired to beat a creditor out 
of one cent that was due him, and a man who comes 
around saying, "I pay my honest debts," does so to ad- 
vertise his honesty. Many a man has made that re- 
mark who would cheat or swindle any person they could 
out of any sum from five dollars to thousands in their 



174 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

dealings and then feel that they were honest A man 
who has the ability to pay his debts and will not do it 
is 1 a thief and nothing less. Thousands of men who from 
the very depths of an honest and true heart, wish and 
long to pay their creditors, but can not even pay the in- 
terest on what is due these parties they are owing, and 
while they may toil and strive ever so hard while the 
abuse and anathema of their creditors follow them, they 
can not free themselves at once from the hand of the 
tyrant over them. Sometimes even the most merciful 
and lenient creditors are driven to conclude that the per- 
son does not make as much effort as they should to set- 
tle up, and this is really true in thousands of cases, and 
this causes the creditors to often oppress the man who 
owes him because others talked just as fair and made 
all such good promises. Right here you can see how we 
are "our brother's keeper ;" suppose ten persons are to- 
gether, and six of these have beaten their creditors — 
those creditors, with their lessons of experience can not 
be lenient to the other four, although they are really de- 
sirous to pay up when accounts are due but unable, 
through unforeseen misfortunes, to do so; hence they 
suffer because the others took advantage of the oppor- 
tunity to defraud their creditors. With all the boasted 
honesty of some of these who brag, so to speak, they 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 175 

pay their honest debts, I can but feel that only a few 
strive manfully to pay their debts in full. A few of these 
debts I want to call your attention to in this chapter. 

All I will take time and space to say concerning the 
bonded indebtedness of this nation is that it is the duty 
of every American citizen to urge the payment of these 
bonds and not entail upon unborn generations the debts 
now hanging over this nation, but this is a question the 
true statesman must handle. 

First. To my parents : My father, who was of Scotch 
descent and who was a great admirer of the brave 
Scotchmen and loved to talk about John Knox and other 
noted reformers and dissenters, was as firm as the hills, 
and believed that those under him should obey and look 
up to him. I was made to learn when quite young "the 
way of the transgressor is hard." From him I was 
taught to obey those in authority. Through hearing him 
talk much about the truly great men in the old world 
and their noble deeds, an earnest desire grew in my own 
breast to learn more about these men of whom I had 
heard him speak, and I can truly say that he, as a father 
amid trials, conflicts and sorrows, tried to implant the 
great truths of the Bible and the principles of right in 
my mind. The ministers who would make his house 
their home, would have friendly and brotherly discus- 



176 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

sions, and I was imbued with an earnest desire to learn 
more of these truths and histories and men of whose 
records and deeds they would talk with as much ease as 
I could talk about the horses, cattle and sheep which 
were. around our home by the hundreds. This thirst for 
knowledge has ever increased, until it at times has be- 
come almost a consuming fire in my bosom. 

Second. To my mother : Here words fail to express 
the deep unpaid debt I owe and which can be paid only 
by living a pure, undefiled life to the last moment in this 
world. 

Beautiful, educated, refined and cultured, in all its true 
meaning, way back in the days of peaceful slavery (if 
it could be called such) the first third of this century. 
She was the daughter of a wealthy Georgia planter. 
Though passing through sorrows of various kinds and 
losing two sons in the Civil War, yet with a sweet charm 
about her and a deep abiding faith in God and His prom- 
ises, she set her children an example worthy for all to 
emulate. Such was her deep abiding faith in God thg,t 
many of the neighbors in the early 6o's, during the war 
and when we hardly ever saw a minister, would when in 
sorrow and trouble come to mother for her counsel, ad- 
vice and prayers, and these scenes and many of the words 
that fell from her lips on these occasions are still fresh 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 177 

on memory's pages and planted there like the names and 
marks made on the bricks while they are still soft. While 
I have heard father censured and criticised by different 
people, I never heard any speak only words of love and 
high appreciation and tenderness concerning mother. 
While father was firm and commanding in manner, 
mother, while firm for what was right, yet possessing 
such a winning way, would carry her points in arguments 
and win over those opposed apparently alone by love 
and gentle words. Such was her piety that all who 
knew her believed her to be a true follower of Him who 
was slain for the sins of the world, and when T was a 
little boy she took me to church and I heard her rejoice 
aloud in a Savior's love. It made me resolve that I 
would myself adore this great Savior my own precious 
mother loved, and such was my respect for my mother's 
God that I never did take the name of God in vain, 
though roaming over the prairies of Texas amid wicked 
stockmen who seldom saw a preacher, many of whom 
never attended church when they had an opportunity, 
and when going to mount the wild horse that was likely 
to jump, pitch and buck for a mile, when skill would be 
required to keep my seat in the saddle, I was truly glad 
I was blessed with a consecrated praying mother. When 

12-a 



178 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

amid dangers seen and real in the early days of Texas, 
when the sixshooter or pistol was the law and the only 
law in some crowds, I have passed unharmed, when in 
calm moments I could but feel, "It is a mother's prayers, 
a mother's God, who preserves and keeps me." 

And here let me digress long enough to say to the 
men and boys who may read these lines that I was so 
reckless and wayward at times that my conduce caused 
the tears to roll down dear mother's cheeks. Boys, I 
can not think of the sad hours that caused these tears 
without weeping. I can not stand at her grave without 
the sad hours come back in multiplied force. I can only 
think of how bad I was and her loving words that sting 
me with more and more force each year. 

Mother has long since gone to that sweet rest above 
with God and she said, among the last words spoken, 
"I see the angels coming and the gates of glory are 
open." I don't want her back; no, but I wish I had 
been a better boy, and, amid success today and defeat, 
if mother was on earth I would still feel I was my 
mother's little boy. 

Oh! boys; if you wish to be happy in life, always be 
kind and gentle and obedient to mother, and a girl who 
will not obey and tell her mother her secrets will never 
make a good, true wife. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 179 

When before vast congregations I stand to preach the 
gospel of Jesus Christ, I feel my own weakness and little- 
ness and am unable to meet the requirements of the hour, 
my mind often runs back to the times and hours when 
mother would place her feeble, bony fingers on my little 
head and pray God to bless her little boy, and I feel that 
her sweet spirit still watches, and with faith in God, I 
am striving to work for His glory and can face any op- 
position and challenge the powers of darkness. 

I owe my success to my mother and the great loving 
God she served. 

The third debt I owe is to those men who, amid trials 
and conflicts and often unpleasant surroundings, have 
written good books. Among the first books that I read 
was Baxter's "Saints Everlasting Rest," and this book 
seemed to deepen the truths that I was taught at home 
by father and mother. Then was taken down to read 
and re-read that book written by the man that cruel 
hands and tyranny had placed in Bedford jail, Bunyan's 
complete works. Sometimes I wish I had never seen 
either Baxter's "Call to the Unconverted" or his "Saints 
Rest," feeling that ignorance concerning these) deep truths 
would have been bliss, but the seed had been planted and 
they must grow. To turn away from light and knowl- 
edge was wrong and also very dangerous; such a thing 



180 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

as erasing them from memory's page was impossible, 
hence the deep, lasting and undying principles of truth 
were planted in my young mind and heart that would 
torment me all through life if I refused the light there. 
On the other hand there was joy and light and heaven 
and eternal peace. 

Oh ! shall I refuse, turn away and wander off in dark- 
ness, that was rapidly increasing around me, and I dared 
not tell anyone my sorrows. 

"Oh! what shall I do?" was the awful and only ques- 
tion that troubled me for months, though I was only ten 
years old. How true and appropriate are these precious 
words : 

"I was once far away from the Savior, 

As vile as a sinner could be; 
I wandered on in the darkness, 
Not a ray of light could I see." 

Then came Butler's "Analogy of Religion" and Wil- 
liam Jay's works, and later all of Spurgeon's works, D. 
L. Moody's "The Masque Torn Off," and many others 
by Talmage, Thomas Carlyle's "Heroes and Hero Wor- 
ship," and many others of the noted English authors and 
great men of state. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 181 

I have learned from the great leaders of men many 
grand truths and in a way I trust to perform some acts 
as the years roll by so that others will be benefited. One 
noted person in the list that I might speak of more fully 
would space allow in this tract — that % is Rowland Hill, 
the great preacher of England, who preached sixty-nine 
years, and bade his vast congregation good-bye on Sun- 
day, saying his work on earth was over and he was going 
home in a few days; on the following Wednesday he 
was dead and his soul in glory. 

What I owe to my wife : So many have lead a pure, 
trusting, confiding, pure-hearted and minded young lady 
to the altar who afterwards have forsaken her or other- 
wise rendered her life miserable and wretched. I owe 
my wife my undying devotion and and honest effort to 
make her life happy in providing all things in my power 
for her comfort and joy, and as the years roll by to add 
to her joys and ever to support her amid sorrow and 
cheer her in hours of despondency. 

To my children: To live a life of purity in all its 
meaning and obedient to all the laws of God governing 
and binding a father as far as lies in my power; in train- 
ing them in business ; to work and educate them so they 
will leave their father's home to fight this world's battles 
with a true and brave heart. A cruel deed or nn com- 



1 82 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

mitted by me will be visited upon them in proportion to 
its magnitude. I am aware that many people don't be- 
lieve this, but many people don't believe anything hardly 
that is true and will stand the test in the great day of 
God. (Rev. 6: 17.) There is no truth more conspicu- 
ous in the Bible or taught any clearer. It is fulfilled 
every week in our cities and can be seen by the observing 
in history in all parts of the world. Hence I owe my 
children that debt — to live a true and pure life before 
God though all the world derides and condemns. 

To my church: My unwavering faithfulness., realiz- 
ing that the pastor or preacher in charge is just as re- 
sponsible to God for his leadership as Moses was in lead- 
ing the children of Israel from under bondage. Moses' 
life is an example of the life of any faithful pastor, it 
makes no difference where he is located. Each should 
teach the ignorant; cheer the faint; care for the sick; 
look after the poor; check those who are going astray 
from duty, lead them back with gentle words and firm, 
solid teaching that God will approve, and when no longer 
they will listen tell them good-bye, part company with 
those who will not hear the word. To strive to get each 
one interested in some branch of church work and to 
plan out work that all can take part in and strive that 
there be no idlers in the vineyard. Lead them out in 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 183 

pastures new and enlarge the borders and feed them on 
the sincere milk of the Word. 

What I owe to the idle and unemployed: To use all 
legitimate means in my power to open up avenues of 
work for those who are today unemployed; but how is 
one poor, weak, moneyless man to cope with this great 
question that is agitating the master minds of earth to- 
day. All who are followers of Jesus have this matter at 
heart who thinks for a minute. But religion seems to 
be pushed out of sight in so many parts, and is so little 
thought of by hundreds and thousands whose names are 
enrolled upon the church books asj members — poor things, 
so many are slobbered over by men who are educated 
and are deluded with the thoughts that fine compositions; 
called sermons delivered in proper style is all Mr. 
Preacher has to do. There is so much of this sham, 
shoddy ministerial work today from one side of this na- 
tion to the other, if not from pole to pole and from 
ocean to ocean, that thousands stay away from church 
because the living issues are not met, and souls who 
gather there to be spiritually fed turn away in disgust. 
Our seminaries are impressing false ideas upon the 
young men who say they are called to preach, and 
to go out with one idea — a fine church and fat 
salary, and I will make my mark in the world. 



184 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

These people who wait on such ministry a few times 
say, "I have enough of this bosh stuff and rehash of 
stale theology." Hence, unions of various kinds for 
mutual benefit for laboring men in all the branches ; these 
societies have increased in number as pure and undefiled 
religion has died out. The oaths and pledges have failed 
to hold many of these leaders and members of these to 
their obligations, and one by one they are pronounced 
"failures." While one has died, others have sprung up, 
many of the new ones to share the same fate in the pro- 
gress of events. Today the unemployed are so by sad 
experience. Too often men care nothing for their fel- 
low craftsman, and no longer feel "I am my brother's 
keeper." Of course the tap root of this state of things 
that confront us is caused by the loose home training of 
children, and then again this is brought about by the 
poor barren preacher in the pulpit failing to "cry aloud 
and spare not," with a greater desire to please man than 
to please his Master. 

I would actually rejoice if all such preachers could and 
were compelled to spend two minutes in hell and then 
come back to their pulpits — then the gospel of Jesus 
would ring in its purity. Gladstone said when being in- 
terviewed by Dr. Talmage a few years ago, "You preach- 
ers go ahead, for the gospel (the truths of the Bible) 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 185 

is the only panacea for the evils of nations, governments, 
and evils of cities/' As these societites and all our plan- 
ning have come to naught, we must now look to the 
Christian leaders to bring about a better state of things 
between labor and capital, and every man who God has 
blessed with wealth should strive to open up new indis- 
tries run on a co-operative or economical basis, so that 
the unemployed can earn the things necessary to sustain 
life and meet the obligations that rest upon them as citi- 
zens, brothers and fathers; as mothers, daughters and 
sisters. I ( feel that I owe this debt to all the unemployed, 
if in any way through my influence I can secure a place 
for one man or one woman to work to earn the means 
necessary to maintain them and their's, it is my duty. 
If I can secure a position for one and fail to do so, I 
have done wrong. In the same ratio the wrong would 
increase with ten, one hundred, or one thousand. I at 
least owe them my sympathy, but sympathy is so coldly 
expressed. Without some effort, it is like the rich 
preacher a few years ago who said to a poor woman 
with hungry children clinging to her and begging for 
bread, "I will pray for you." (Jas, 2: 15 and 16.) 
This part of scripture makes it binding on Christians to 
do what they can to give the unemployed a place where 



1 86 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

they can earn a living and provide things just and right 
before God. 

All laws that are made in the interest of the rich be- 
come a crime in the sight of Him who never sleeps. It 
is true these truths never trouble many who are reaching 
after the dollars, caring no more for the sorrows of 
others than they do for the hoot of the owl. Peter 
Cooper of New York and many others have set the 
living many examples in this line of work. Geo. W. 
Childs of Philadelphia had no superior and very few, if 
any, equals. The man who cries down the corporations 
that employ so many hands (unless those corporations 
and companies are engaged in a business that is detri- 
mental to the happiness of our homes, like the brewing 
companies and associations and whiskey rings) and 
which treat their men and employes right, he himself 
stands in the way of the unemployed — yet these unem- 
ployed should not expect wages that the corporations can- 
not pay. I am aware that great wisdom is needed here 
m adjusting this question, but it is one of the questions 
of great consideration that confronts us now on every 
side and wherever you look in this or other nations. 

Jesus while on earth ever looked out for the needy 
and sorrowing ones, and it becomes the duty, as far as 
in the power of Christians, to imitate His example. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 187 

William Perm's theory was a just one : "No man shall 
eat unless he works." How can the unemployed per- 
sons feed themselves and those dependent upon them un- 
less they can secure employment. One says, "Let the idle 
go to the country and open up farms." Yes, this is good, 
but where are the land owners or land companies today 
who will build the houses, furnish teams, tools and pro- 
visions without any money until crops are made, to a 
dozen or two families? Here we can see how Henry 
George's theory comes in so nice and I can but admire 
this truly great man in his efforts, striving to adjust this 
land question so the vast unoccupied, unsettled lands 
could become homes for the unemployed thousands. 

General Booth, in outlining the work of the Salvation 
Army, is ahead of most Christian workers in solving this 
problem concerning the unemployed and the "submerged 
tenth," as he puts it in his book "Darkest England and 
the Way Out." 

What I owe to the blind, maimed, deformed and crip- 
pled: In all our Texas cities and also many of our 
towns you see on every street persons of this class call- 
ing for alms. While the gospel of Jesus has so per- 
meated the masses that asylums for the insane, schools 
for the blind and deaf and dumb have been built; com- 
panies, corporations, cities and individuals have erected 



1 88 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

hospitals for those hurt, injured or disabled while in 
their service, yet there are hundreds still uncared and 
unprovided for. Many of these, if placed in a home, 
cared for and provided with materials, could, with a 
prudent leader to superintend the work, make the home 
self-sustaining and go a great way in helping others of 
their kind who are wholly unable to earn anything to- 
wards the support. There are thousands who are ever 
ready to assist in such, for John Howard always found 
men who were ready to assist him in making the prison- 
ers more comfortable. There has always been and will 
be those who can only see the "bug under the chip" and 
the "nigger in the woodpile," but if I never lead any 
work of this nature and can not help him who leads in 
a good work, I trust I never will join the army of croak- 
ers against such moves or work. It looks to me as there 
might be a home of this kind in all the thickly settled 
counties of our State, or at least in many parts of the 
State. 

To the uneducated: I owe my assistance in a way 
that will be beneficial to those who want information, 
who desire it. To be freely and simply giving advice 
m a promiscuous way and then console myself, as I have 
seen many do, by saying, "that my words have been a 
blessing" is wrong, but to assist in a way that the ig- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 189 

norant can be instructed in knowledge, considered from 
an educational point, is a duty that we all owe to the 
unlearned. This is done in erecting a school where they 
may be taught, and while all cannot be scholars and 
learned in all the arts and sciences, yet they can not only 
be taught to read and write well and a reasonable amount 
of mathematics, but learn how they may live to be happy 
and successful in life, and the great lesson — how each 
may live so that they will be prepared to die well. 

I have been taught myself so many important lessons in 
the schoolroom, from the platform and the pulpit, that to 
ever receive and never give anything that will benefit 
others would be a crime, which will meet with punish- 
ments from the hands of Him who rules over all. The 
majority of children can attend the common schools, but 
shall we be content with this? No, there are deserving 
boys and girls who, if assisted a little in the way of se- 
curing an education, will prove a blessing to society and 
the world at large. Then I am in debt to this class so 
far as my ability goes. 

To the drunkards : I owe them my assistance to era- 
dicate themselves from the awful pit of sorrow into 
which they have fallen. This is to be done in two ways : 
First, by using all diligent effort to free our land from 
whiskey, and while we are sorry for those who are under 



190 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

the curse of this hydra-headed monster that confronts 
him who would shun his embrace, but the spell is on him 
and he is held fast as the bird that is charmed by the 
snake. We must go to his relief or he is forever lost 
to this world and his soul in the world to come. Then 
I am in debt to him to lift him out if possible. The 
only way is at the ballot box in the first place, then in 
a faithful warning to the boys and young men that they 
shun this monster, which has destroyed its millions, 
among whom were some of the most learned and tal- 
ented of our nation and the heroes of other countries 
and ages. Alexander, who wept because there was no 
other worlds or other parts for him to conqueer, died a 
drunkard. There ought to be homes provided where 
the confirmed drunkard could be taken away from the 
influence of drink, and he treated by skillful hands for 
this awful malady that has fastened its deadly fangs 
upon him. Men so cured would go out to spend their 
days working to rescue others, and the contributions 
would increase from year to year from men and the 
friends of this redeeming work, until an army of reform 
workers would fill our land. A law could be made that 
all that would be necessary to take the man to the home 
and care for and cure him would be the request or per- 
mission of his wife, parents or friends, or even the de- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 191 

sire of the citizens of the community or town, if no blood 
kin should be there to speak in behalf of the fallen one. 
Here requires that deep sympathy for the fallen that is 
only brought about by deep-seated love for God. out of 
which springs and grows that kindness and love for the 
fallen that was demonstrated by the good Samaritan in 
picking up even the one that the proud priest (preacher) 
passed by. 

To the fallen women : I have time and again in my 
ministerial work said to the church, "You must receive 
her, baptize her and treat her tenderly, for she now says 
that Jesus is her great Savior and God has pardoned her 
sins." "We can not," has often come to my ears. "Oh 
God, help me/' has as often been my cry. When God 
raised up and chose that wealthy man, Charles M. Crit- 
tenton, who in his missionary work was permitted to 
and did visit our own Southern city, Houston, and in 
his work there the instruction and the financial aid was 
given to establish a mission home where the reformed 
of this class could be placed in the right road once more, 
I was lead to see a way through the cloud of opposition 
in reaching and rescuing all who would come, and in 
behalf of this home as a Christian I owe my prayers and 
any assistance that is in my power to give to it. in con- 
nection with my other duties. 



192 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

What I owe my critics and vile persecutors : I never 
saw a kite that would fly unless it was pulled by a string. 
and a string that enables you to rise, in one sense, to a 
higher plane of usefulness, while the string may have 
flaws in it and rough places in it we will not cut it but 
let it pull. In regard to a few slanderers and backbiters, 
it is my duty to prove, in the first place, that they did not 
exercise wisdom ; in the second place, that under the garb 
of church power, under a so-called religion, they were 
true workers with and for the devil, which God has and 
will overrule for His glory to their shame and confusion. 
To those who can blackmail and write letters that would 
make devils in hell laugh and nngels in glory weep, were 
such possible, which have caused many tears to roll down 
the cheeks of that pure, true woman who leans on my 
arm for protection, I say that in conduct they are not 
any better towards me than the sluice-hounds of hell, and 
here let me say to all that I would rather that God would 
transform me into a fierce dog and appoint me to bark 
at the moon and stars by night and the dazzling sun by 
day until my eyes would grow dim in looking,, my jaws 
weaken with use, and my tongue loll with age, than to 
be as puerile and such a helper with the devil as some 
of the Cheap John preachers and a few swelled up dea- 
cons who have been so bitter against me. These deacons 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 193 

were wanting in the first requirement for the office of 
deacon, "filled with the Holy Ghost." Please excuse 
me. I now know what caused Tom Paine to write his 
"Age of Reason." He saw only such Christians as 
your class. "God pity and bless you," is my oft-repeated 
prayer, but my Savior forgave those who nailed Him 
to the cross and I can with all my soul, heart and being 
beg God for Jesus' sake to forgive you. I want the 
world to know I can forgive, but only for the grace of 
God you who were so unkind to my family would not 
be. I now from experience know how to sympathize 
with the desperado, and can kneel with and beg God for 
Jesus' sake to forgive and save him. I have learned to 
rejoice in tribulation, for I have seen the hand of God 
reached out in my own defense. 

Then another thing; these critics enable a man to hang 
himself up on a peg and take a fair view of himself, and 
when a man does this honestly, he can never have much 
respect for himself. This I think was one reason why 
Paul said, "I die daily," and caused Thomas A. Kempis 
to long to be nothing, and why Spurgeon longed to flee 
away and hide in some American hamlet, instead of re- 
maining in the metropolis of the world — London. When 
duty calls, the man will die at his post, like the faithful 

13— a 



194 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

soldier who was on guard when Mount Vesuvius in her 
awful eruption ages ago buried the cities of Pompeii and 
Herculaneum, and ages after was found by the excavat- 
ing party encased in lava, but still at his post; Socrates 
drank the poison, and the Savior in the agony of his soul 
cried out, "My God, my God, why has thou forsaken 
me?" 

To you who would follow Christ, I can echo to you 
that it will cost you something and you will taste of 
sorrow, but one will sometimes give way to persecution 
even when Jesus promises. That is a question that has 
often perplexed me, but all Bible characters when under- 
going great sorrow of heart demonstrated, though lead- 
ers and strong enough to face all, at times gave way to 
weakness and wept and longed for the silence of the 
grave or peace and retirement from public life. These 
persecutions tend to refine and consume the dross of our 
composition and cause us to tack to the larboard during 
the storm, and the eagle to fly to its secure home amid 
the high rock caves above the raging storm, and the re- 
ligion of Jesus Christ will lift a man above the wreck of 
worlds and the crush of matter and even lift over the 
big fire when this world is burned up; hence, as I claim 
to possess this article for myself, and to use the light 
for the benefit of others a binding duty, then if I cannot 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 195 

stand the test I ought to sink from public view at once, 
but if God causes us to go through a brick wall it be- 
comes His duty to pick us up safely on the other side — 
a duty he always performs with great joy and He will 
ever sustain His servants in duty, if he has to wreck a 
world, let alone blow down the schoolhouse used by this 
devil-working set for a church, and scatter them until 
there is no three remaining together beneath the sun. 
There is another debt I ows my critics; to prove they 
know very little and let another fact be made clear that 
God choses the man or men He wants and does not con- 
sult a set of preachers or tenth-grade deacons to do His 
selecting, especially a set of preachers who will strive to 
drive ail other preachers out of business unless they are 
consulted for advice as who the churches shall select as 
pastor. They themselves kill every church spiritually 
they are called to serve and will ride around over the 
country and run down the idea of men having a family 
altar. A preacher who has no family altar, if he has a 
family, is not a suitable man to be pastor of any church 
and has no ministerial right to visit other homes and 
pray with the families of others. Unless this is his cus- 
tom at his own home, it is like the hypocrite praying 
only on street corners — please excuse me from listening 
to you the second time, but many will reach heaven but 



196 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

their works will be burned up and this will include, I 
fear, the proud families of the prayerless preachers, as 
well as all those beneath hell-born inspirations. 

To the children: I owe words of cheer, instructioa 
and correct teaching, for the lessons taught children 
shape their lives and determine the success most gener- 
ally for two worlds ; then I must be careful, indeed, with 
my words around among these of tender age and strive 
to plant truth in their young minds that will bear fruit 
in years to come. While the commission is given to 
preach my gospel to every creature, many preachers never 
notice the children; hence they are passing through this 
world not paying attention to their commission or are 
such blockheads they have not the sense to talk to the 
children and never think about getting a Sunday school 
or anything of the kind ; then when some brother should, 
perchance, visit their congregation and talk to the chil- 
dren, these smart know-all-owl class of preachers when 
the new man is gone, they will say, "Now, he thinks he 
is somebody, because he has been to school.' ' Last year 
when attending a meeting of an association, a preacher 
formulated and composed an article and read it, and this 
paper read about this way : "Be it resolved, that we in- 
struct our next missionary to look after the children and 
when possible conduct meetings for them and organize 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 197 

Sunday schools." I asked, "Please read that clause 
again," and I assailed the idea and asked what had your 
missionary been doing and I thought the board did not 
act wisely in appointing a man to such work unless he had 
sense enough to do the work that was binding on all 
missionaries. One or two little preachers laughed at 
my remarks, but I knew they were very common cattle, 
and their slurs and sneering remarks and criticisms were 
not worth a reply, unless I should turn teacher and in- 
struct the upstarts of theology, but they have a salary 
even though no one is ever saved in or near their church. 
The best material in all our churches, as a rule were 
converted when young, and our greatest workers in 
Christianity were brought up in the Sunday school. 
Then as one generation provides for the succeeding one 
we must strive to prepare the children for greater work, 
higher conceptions of life, the great needs of all to be 
happy, to commence right in life to succeed well. Hun- 
dreds wake up to see the opportunities lost and grieve 
over misspent youth — hence I owe this to all the chil- 
dren I come in contact with, and as far as possible I 
must make it possible by unflagging industry and help 
a few thousand get started right and impress the true 
principles of right upon them while life is spared. I 



198 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

owe watchful sympathy for their good and advance- 
ment mentally, morally and spiritually. 

To the sick: I owe them my visits to cheer them 
and see if they have nourishment and proper treatment. 
This is very binding on me around my own home and 
in the bounds of my church, not only among the mem- 
bers but even a foe and known enemy if sick and in 
need; also going to the assistance of those who in their 
distress call for aid, and if I as an individual cannot 
do this myself, to use all the influence I can bring to 
bear upon others in a pure, upright way to secure their 
help in relieving the sick and suffering. 

To the stockmen: I owe them a faithful discharge 
of the various duties resting upon me in the varied rela- 
tions to all that is good, and to prove by a faithful life 
the reality of the religion of Jesus Christ, because I was 
once one of that number who roamed the beautiful pra- 
iries and took part in all work, hardships and dangers 
that gather around a life of exposure to rain and storm 
by day and night. Haying left this work, I must be like 
the Chinese convert (don't misunderstand me that only 
a few stockmen have religion) who was told, "Now, you, 
a real Chinaman, got religion ; if it is good like preachers 
says and you hold on, prove it to us; we come, too." 
So to those with whom I have mingled in days gone by 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 199 

from the coast of Texas to the plains I must hold on, as 
David expressed it, "Cleave to the Lord," and should 
trust or honor be placed upon me, prove true to each 
trust and wear each honor with grace, but never forget 
that the cow man has a soul and a big heart, though some 
still wear the big spurs and the heavy white hat, and 
too often forgets when Sunday comes; and the wild 
thoughtless boys who would yell sometimes on the streets 
of the frontier town might settle down and become the 
pillars in the church some day and wear the highest 
honors of State; when enjoying their hospitalities, as I 
have in various sections of Texas, to always lay aside 
that stiff, cold formality that often renders the boys a 
little backwards when the preacher is around, and while 
remembering that I am still on duty, make them feel I 
am one of their comrades still, for the religion of Jesus 
is the best thing in this world anywhere and under any 
circumstances and raises its possessor to feel kindly to- 
wards all they meet. 

To the lives and many examples of the past: I owe 
them debts of gratitude, for man is often perplexed with 
the duties that confront him; therefore, as I study the 
chivalrous and heroic deeds of these illustrious charac- 
ters, it enables me to see how to perform my own work 
much better and their acts seem to turn the light on the 



200 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

dark ground and the knotty questions that so often per- 
plex me; as Paul says, "None of us liveth to himself 
and no man dieth to himself." It becomes my duty and 
a debt I owe this world to use my influence in such a 
way, if possible, that this world will be made brighter 
and better by this frail life that I must meet the record 
of in the day of Judgment. 

To my State: I owe the faithful discharge of every 
duty of a loyal, patriotic citizen, and whether I live in 
city, town or country, I owe my neighbors to live an 
honest, peaceable life, and to work for the mutual good 
of all — educational, financial, moral and religious, be- 
cause if there is one real bad citizen in a community 
people may hear only of him and decide that I do not 
want to even visit the neighborhood where such a man 
lives ; hence it is a duty I owe to all my neighbors to be 
a real good citizen. And now in conclusion I ask you 
who pay your honest debts, "Have you paid all you 
owe?" 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HOCKLEY, I907. 

Hockley, the home of my boyhood's happy days, is 
thirty-five miles west from the great city of Texas — 
Houston — and while it is only a small place today, it 
was away back in the sixties and seventies the great 
shipping point for much lumber, where great ox teams 
were the motive power, from saw mills to railroads. 
Now it is only a small place, but it has furnished Harris 
County with more officers than any town of its size in 
the State, has furnished county officials to run county 
affairs, and I am proud of her history. 

On this point, Mr. Geo. Ellis was first county com- 
missioner for four years, then sheriff for eight years in 
succession. Then he was criminal district clerk for 
four years and is now and has been for the last five years 
chief of police in the city of Houston, and I am told no 
man can beat him as long as he wants the office. So 
he has been an officer twenty-one years almost without 
intermission, which speaks well for any man, while his 
chief man of the police force, Mr. James Ray, was raised 
near Hockley and has served the city as an officer for 
many years. 



202 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

Mr. E. F. Dupree was county clerk for ten years, grew 
to manhood at Hockley, where his father still lives. 

Hon. Blake Dupree was raised at Hockley and elected 
county judge for two terms and is now one of the men 
of Houston who are managing vast monied interests of 
others. 

Mr. W. E. Ellis of Waller, Texas, a son of Geo. Ellis, 
was raised at Hockley and is said by many railroad offi- 
cials to be one of the best agents on the entire line of 
the Houston & Texas Central road, which is no small 
honor. 

While Mr. J. H. G. Becker was not reared at Hock- 
ley, he has made it his home for many years and has 
served the county as commissioner from his precinct. 
He was appointed by the German government to attend 
to important duties in Africa for four years. 

Many others raised here have achieved success in the 
financial world. 

Dr. Batte, an honored citizen for years I regard as the 
best physician ever entered my home. 

I believe I am the only boy who ever grew to man- 
hood there who entered the ministry and I trust I will 
never do anything in life that will cause my friends there 
a pang of sorrow, but by the help of Him who sits on 
the circle of heaven and watches the universe and the 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 203 

planets as they roll on in the immensity of space to take 
my stand among the men of today and prove worthy of 
the friendship of all true men and women it has been my 
fortune to meet. 

Hockley is today surrounded with large ranches from 
which each year is shipped from $75,000 to $125,000 
worth of stock. 



CHAPTER XX. 

WHY I AM A BAPTIST, 

In the first chapter I stated that my father was a 
Methodist class teacher, and hundreds of times, perhaps, 
the question has been asked me, "Why are you a Bap- 
tist?" "From reading and studying the Bible," has al- 
ways been my reply, but I will here try to explain fully 
"Why I am a Baptist." 

When I was about twelve years old there were only a 
few professors of religion in the vicinity where I lived — a 
few Methodists and a few Baptists. The Methodists had 
preaching regularly at that time. A Baptist minister 
moved into the community and soon made friends, and 
the few Baptists who lived there had him to preach. By 
special request of those who, with their children, the 
Methodist minister had tried to get to join his church, 
as there was no Baptist church or Baptist preacher in 
the county, the Baptist preacher preached on Baptism, 
and he had only a Bible in his hand or upon the table 
used as a pulpit. Some two or three joined the church 
that day, because the minister had organized a Baptist 
church. When the new members, as they were called, 
were to be baptized, the preacher told them they would 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 205 

meet at a certain place on the creek. He read the Bible 
at the water's edge, and said among other things, that 
Jesus, our precious Savior, was baptized in the river of 
Jordan in Palestine. The minister then lead those to be 
baptized into the water, where it was about three and 
a half feet deep, and immersed each one. Everybody and 
his kinfolks seemed to be there who lived near enough 
to witness this preacher put under water the persons who 
had joined the Baptists. My parents were there, and the 
Baptist preacher called on my father to lead in the last 
prayer. , 

All the people present seemed to be in a good humor, 
but it was only the following week that two of the 
Methodist members came to see my father and told him 
that their preacher "must answer that sermon on bap- 
tism." My father would not agree with them to have 
a special sermon by the Methodist minister in reply to 
the sermon preached by the Baptist, but they were deter- 
mined. The Methodist minister had it announced that 
he would reply to the Baptist sermon on baptism. All 
the people wanted to hear the reply, so there was a 
crowd in attendance. 

When the Methodist preacher came into the school- 
house that day he had several large books besides his 



206 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

Bible, and he proved by these books of travel over 
Palestine that the River Jordan, where some claimed 
that John the Baptist (Matt. 3:1) baptized the Savior 
(Matt. 3:15-17) was nine feet deep. He took great 
delight in proving that point and seemingly was satis- 
fied that he had made it so clear that it was an impossi- 
bility for John to baptize Jesus the Savior in the River 
Jordan. He preached for one hour and thirty minutes 
to prove all his points (said the older people). 

When we were dismissed I left the house in tears, and 
made for my horse, mounted and rode home. At dinner 
father saw I was sad and had been weeping, whereupon 
he said, "My son, what's the matter?" I said, "Father, 
you have taught me that the Bible was the word of God 
and that it was true. Now, which must I believe, Metho- 
dist books or the Bible?" Without hesitating for one 
moment, he said, "The Bible above all books." "The 
Methodist minister proved today by those books that 
it was a lie about John baptizing the Savior in the River 
Jordan; now, if this is a lie, all the rest must also be a 
lie, because it is clear to anyone who can read that John 
and the Savior came out of the water, and about the 
time they were near the edge of the water God spoke 
from heaven and said, 'This is my beloved Son, in 
whom I am well pleased/" (Matt. 3:17.) I told my 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 207 

father I did not know that it would do me any good to 
ever go to church again to hear that Methodist preacher. 
"But I will try to do as you say, but from this to my 
dying hour I cannot take the Bible and be a Methodist." 
This was a struggle to me, but it was the way I felt. 

Since then I have never had anything to cause me to 
think otherwise than that baptism — immersion in water 
of the whole body — was the Bible mode of baptism. I 
don't call anything but the immersion of the whole body 
in water baptism. The Methodists, like the Baptists, say, 
"One Lord, one faith, one baptism." (Eph. 4:5). Yet 
they will sprinkle the water on the person, or pour it on 
the person, or immerse, like the Baptists. Now, there 
are three distinct modes or ways — all are not right — 
and instead of one baptism as a church, they have three 
baptisms. They tell me, "so a person is satisfied." That 
is no answer at all. In that case the person or preacher 
teaches that their conscience is a higher standard or 
greater authority than the Word of God. Thousands 
listen only to the preacher who says, "It is all right;" 
but we will not be judged by what; he said or taught. We 
are not commanded to follow any preacher, but Jesus 
says, "Follow me." All denominations believe that 
Jesus was immersed by John in the River Jordan. Paul, 
in writing to the church at Rome: "Therefore we are 



208 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

buried with him by baptism into death; that, like as 
Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the 
Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.'"' 
Immersion of the whole person in water is as near like 
the burial of the Savior as it can be by a living person. 
Now, if Paul speaks of baptism as a burial, then John 
immersed the Savior in the river of Jordan as recorded 
in Matthew, 3d chapter. 

To be brief on this subject of baptism, all the leading 
writers for the last one hundred years or more say the 
immersion of the person in water was the Apostolic mode 
of baptism. 

The Catholic church in the Third Century changed 
baptism to sprinkling or pouring to accommodate a sick 
man, who they said could not be taken and immersed. 
The apostles nowhere taught that sprinkling was bap- 
tism. Now, as Jesus by example taught baptism (im- 
mersion) and all the apostles taught it, and all the schol- 
ars since admit that it was the Apostolic mode, where 
did any man, church or council, in short, any power 
beneath the sun, get the right to change baptism to 
sprinkling or pouring and call it baptism? Where does 
anyone or any church get the right, the authority to 
make two or three distinct methods and call them all 
"one baptism?" Now, I am not telling you what some- 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 209 

one taught, but I ask you to take your reference Bible 
and read Matthew, 3d chapter, and turn to all the refer- 
ences on baptism; also Rom. 6:3-6. 

Baptists also teach that only those who depend alone 
on the shed blood of Jesus for salvation — a new creature ; 
old things are past ; all things to them are new ; that their 
faith in Christ's shed blood has saved them — are fit sub- 
jects to become members of the church. Their sins are 
pardoned because they have looked through faith to 
Calvary for pardon and their sins are now blotted out — 
then and not until then are they fit subjects to be bap- 
tized. (Mark 16, 15.) Jesus says, "Go ye into all the 
world and preach my gospel to every creature; he that 
believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that be- 
lie veth not shall be damned/' 

So belief comes first; not that we are to believve that 
Jesus is the Son of God, because all sinners believe that, 
but that through their faith in Jesus' word, they take 
Him as their own personal Savior. 

Baptists never taught that baptism is essential to sal- 
vation, but to be baptized because they were saved, be- 
cause "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us 
from all sin." 



14— a 



210 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

We tan leather "with oose" ; we wash clothes "with 
water" — that is, we immerse the leather in the oose; we 
immerse the clothes in the water — so we, in baptizing 
"with water/' immerse the person to be baptized. 



CHAPTER XXL 

SHORT SERMON ON ETERNITY. 

"Man goeth to his long home and the mourners go 
about the streets." (Ecclesiates 12: 5.) 

Dear friends, we have been thrown together in the 
journey, of life. We have met on the plains of the West ; 
we have met in the parlors of the rich; we have met on 
the train, in crowded streets perhaps, or in the pine re- 
gions of East Texas; but whether we ever met each other 
before or not, every day of our existence we were on the 
great journey with no stop-over tickets or a month's de- 
lay — we were in one great rush onward as fast as the 
wheels of time rolls, on to our long home. 

I have met great crowds on Canal Street in New Or- 
leans and saw the crowds rush — rush as though time was 
precious. The same way on Main Street in Houston, 
and also seen the gay throng as the people surged to and 
fro on the beach and sea-wall at Galveston, but pause 
a moment and ask, "Where, oh! where, are all these 
people going?" It is true their destinations in this world 
may be in opposite direction — some to palaces while 
others to poor and obscure homes, but all are bound for 
their "long home" 



212 From the Plains to the Pulpit. 

We may have .met when undergoing sore trials or at 
the open grave where some dear one was being laid to 
rest, but still we never stopped to loiter by the wayside, 
for time never lets us wait. Even while we at the grave 
may weep, our bodies wait, but still we are nearing our 
long home each moment. This brings us to the ques- 
tion. 

Where will you spend eternity? This question is of 
more importance than any other question that we are 
ever called upon to answer, for "Man goeth to his long 
home." You can not put on the brakes and stop, for 
a mighty power moves us on — no time to wait. And 
the great Judge of earth will call us some day and we 
do not, can not know when. There is no way to avoid 
this. "As the tree falleth so it must lie" — so man dieth 
and where is he? 

To the cow man the day will come when his favorite 
horse will look in vain for his master. The cattle over 
the range will still roam but their owner will not be 
there, because he has gone to his long home to never 
return. Oh! do stop and answer before your Maker, 
"where you will spend eternity?" 

The large store will be closed some day and crape will 
swing from the knob while all within that great store 
will be still — the proprietor has gone to his long home. 



From the Plains to the Pulpit. 213 

The trains will continue to arrive and depart, but the 
day will come when those who control will be gone to 
their long home. 

Lovely faces will be covered with smiles, but in the 
same crowd hearts will be bowed in grief because some- 
one most dear has gone to their long home. If it is 
you, where will you spend eternity? 

It makes no difference if you don't like the preacher. 
You may not like the truths of the Bible, but that does 
not alter the condition or prevent you from going to 
your long home. Many have tried to close the mouths 
of the ministers; many have tried to destroy the Bible, 
but more ministers are preaching the gospel of Jesus 
Christ than at any period of the would's history before; 
more bibles are sent from the press than at any period 
of the world's history before, and the number of minis- 
ters are increasing and yearly more and more Bibles are 
turned out from the great printing houses in various 
parts of the world. The sale of the Bible is greater 
than any other ten, if not fifty, books that ever came 
from the pen of man, because God, the author, wants 
man to live so in this world that when life is over his 
long home will be a happy home, and this can only be 
our long home by obeying Him here. 

Don't think for one moment that it is all right unless 



214 From the Plains to the Pulpit 

you have believed in His only Son. Your own good 
deeds will not answer. The Apostle Paul said, "If 
I give all my goods to feed the poor and give my body 
to be burned, unless I have charity it profit me nothing," 
so only faith in the shed blood will give you a happy 
home beyond the tomb. 

But if we, like Queen Elizabeth, who reigned for fifty 
years, live in rebellion against God, we may, like her, if 
we had the means, in the last hours cry out, "Millions 
of money for one inch of time." 

Wealth wasted may be amassed again ; health wrecked 
may be repaired by temperance; knowledge lost may be 
regained by study ; friendships shattered may be restored 
by years of fidelity ; reputation demolished may be rebuilt 
by penitence and virtue ; but who can remedy a misspent 
life in the last hours. 

"Oh! I can't die; I won't die," has been the sad cry 
of many a lost soul, who in their last moments realized 
they must at once appear at the Judgment Bar of the 
Eternal King. How shall we escape if we neglect? 

Dear reader, it would be far better for you and me 
that we had never been born than to go to our dying 
hours unprepared to meet our Maker in peace. 



NOV 9 190? 



